


Rhododendron Nudiflorum

by WhatLocked



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcoholism, Alpha/Omega, Biting, Brief suicidal thoughts, Bullying, Depression, Discrimination, F/M, Heats, Johncentric, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mycroft tries to be a decent brother, Sherlock is really possessive, Sorry - No Sherlock until chapter 4, brief mentions of cancer, non-con elements, rough pre-sex, sex scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: John Watson is an Omega without a scent.  This is both a blessing and a curse.  It is a blessing because, even though he goes into heat, he doesn’t attract the unwanted attention of Alphas, thus allowing him to join the army.  It is a curse because no Alpha will have a desire to bond with him.  But that is okay because he has had many years to get used to the idea that he will never actually belong to someone.  Then he meets Sherlock Holmes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst I have read many Alpha/Omega fics, this is my first ever attempt at actually writing one so apologies if I have completely bolloxed it all up. If it is truly horrid, let me know and I will save us all the pain by not continuing. 
> 
> While I have all chapters outlined, this is still essentially a WIP. Hopefully, the updates won't be too long coming.
> 
> Rating may change later in the story.
> 
> More Tags and Characters to be added as we go along.
> 
> NTW.

~~~~~~~~~~

John was used to being invisible.  He had always been small for his age, making it easy for him to slip into rooms unseen.  The fact that he was fairly ordinary looking helped achieve his lack of detection and had come in handy multiple times, usually when playing pranks on his older sister, or not wanting to attract the attention of the school bully. 

John was also very soft-spoken, unless of course he didn’t want to be and then he projected his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, but this was usually only necessary when his sister was holding him in a headlock, threatening to kick his scrawny arse if he even thought about putting glitter in between her sheets again.  Normally John would speak so only those with whom he was conversing with could hear him.  After all, it wasn’t everyone else's business what he had to say.

For fourteen and a half years John went through life like this, not being noticed unless he wanted to be, and even then, sometimes it took something drastic, stupid or clever, for him to stand out so it really didn’t come as a surprise when he finally hit puberty, (a year later than British statistics stated was the norm) he presented as an Omega, yet lacked a scent.  

He was practically invisible and silent already, why not add odourless to the mix.

Unfortunately, his lack of scent did not mean lack of heat and, as all newly pubescent teenagers did, he went through one of these three-day ordeals every month.  The optimism that came from knowing that the heats would spread out to only three or four a year was dampened by the fact that the duration of each heat would expand from four to seven days.

Johns mother Kaye Watson was a meek, yet loving Omega who followed the traditional role of staying home and rearing children whilst looking after and obeying her Alpha.  When Harry had presented as an Alpha at the age of twelve, Kaye had been proud, for the sake of her husband.  Half of the trust account that had been set aside for their children had been turned over to Harriet Julie Watson to help provide her with the means of a meaningful education - the first stepping stones of setting her up for a successful future to enable her to choose from an impressive array of Omegas, being able to offer them support and comfort while they kept her house and bared her children.  

When John finally presented she was still proud, despite the fact that he was an Omega and did her best to make sure he was comfortable during those three days and it went off without so much as a slight hitch that it took two months for his Alpha sister to realise that he had finally presented.  

Had the thought of being an Omega not been enough to illicit teasing from his older sister (which it was) then the fact that he didn’t have a scent was enough for her to torment him to the point where he actively avoided her as her taunts turned from good-humoured, sibling banter to hurtful, personal hits evoking feelings of failure and shame.  It was here that the bridge between the brother and sister started to crack.

When John was younger, he hadn’t cared that he blended in.  He had never liked being the centre of attention and when he had presented as an Omega he had been secretly happy, initially.  It had meant that he wasn’t going to have to strut around, flaunting his dominating nature and trying to prove that he was Mr Big.  When he had realised he didn’t have a scent, it hadn’t really troubled him at all either.  While his mother’s scent was comforting and calming, he had smelt other Omegas close to their heat and he hadn’t liked it at all.  It was always too sweet, to the point where it had made him feel ill like he had scarfed three bags of fairy floss, chased with a bottle of lemonade.  The fact that he didn’t emit an odour had actually been a bit of relief until Harry found out.

Her taunts had been mean-spirited.  She had laughed at him, telling him he was going to be lonely.  No Alpha would want him.  He was short and stupid - now he didn’t even have a scent to make himself appealing.  No one was ever going to get into a frenzy over him.

His mother had always intervened, scolding Harry for telling horrible lies to her little brother.  She would then reassure John that there would be an Alpha for him, somewhere, he just had to find them and when he did they would bond and John would bare them many beautiful pups.  Somehow this never helped alleviate the pain of Harry’s taunts and cruel words.  

John didn’t want to be someone's housemate, cooking and cleaning and popping out babies.  He had plans.  He wanted to do things, see the world.  Stand on the edge of the precipice and look down and see if anything looked back up.  He didn’t want to be meek and comfortable.  He wanted to make something of himself and do it himself, without a bloody Alpha holding his hand, although a companion would be nice; someone to share the journey.

Johns father, Malcolm was another story.  Kaye had kept the fact that their son was an Omega from him for as long as she could.  She knew he would be disappointed and it was in her genetic makeup to try and keep her husband pleased.  Malcolm came from a long line of Alpha only families.  He was the second eldest of five Alphas.  His Father was the youngest of three Alphas and his Grandmother was the seventh in twelve Alphas.  Not once had he entertained the thought that one of his children, least of all his son, would present as anything other than an Alpha.  It was needless to say that a month after Harry had discovered Johns secondary-gender, his father found out (all thanks to an ill-timed jibe at John from his sister) and he was not at all impressed.  

It was never verbally announced, but John had only had to look at his father to know that he was a disappointment.  The disappointment grew to distaste once he realised that he hadn’t realised John had presented due to the fact that he had no scent.  The disgust went back to disappointment, then to anger only to fall into indifference after every doctor's appointment or second opinion that he forced John to go to find out when his scent would kick in, resulted in unsatisfactory answers.  When he finally comprehended that John’s scent wasn’t going to kick in as he got older, he lost all interest in his son.  They very rarely spoke, they never went anywhere together, Johns half of the trust was turned over to Harry and John was relegated to a slave.  There to make his Alpha father happy until an Alpha of his own would come along, but no one was holding their breath.  

 John Watson was one of the very, _very_ , few in the world; one in 23.9 million; defective; scentless.

~o~

John hated crying.  It meant he was weak.  It meant he wasn’t strong and it meant that his father had won.  John had presented a little under two years ago and while he was no longer having heats every month, they were still there, making his life miserable for three days every two or three months.  John tried to be as inconspicuous as possible during this time, despite the longing and pining for things he had never experienced.  He kept quiet and to his room and asked his family for nothing except to be left alone and it wasn’t like his scent was a problem.  But his father had been trying to get him away from the family for a long time now and now that John was sixteen years old, he was legally old enough to bond and breed.  Therein laid the problem.  

While it wasn’t actually legal to sell Omegas to Alphas, there was a loophole that allowed an Alpha to ‘ _sponsor’_ an Omega in exchange for a go at their scent gland.  No monies were actually exchanged, so it wasn’t selling and so long as the Omega was looked after, it wasn’t slavery, but the Omegas family were free of a potential burden and if they had played their cards right, were married into a wealthy and or influential family.

It was this grand plan that Malcolm Watson had come up with in regards to his son.  He had, without discussion with Kaye or John, already signed John up to the sponsor program.  John had protested and then argued and then screamed at his father, while his mother wept in one corner whilst Harry gloated in the other.  

“I won’t go” John yelled at his father, fists clenched at his side, shaking with the suppressed urge to strike out at the man before him.  “You can’t make me.”

This earned a backhanded slap across the face.  John's eyes glistened as the skin stung, but he refused to cry in front of either his father of his sister.  

“You will bloody go and you will do so quietly and respectfully, like the stupid little Omega you are and if not, then I will drag you there kicking and screaming”  His father spat down at him and the look on his face told John that he meant every word of it.

John spun around and went to leave the room.  If he wasn’t there, they couldn’t make him meet whatever Alpha was going to dash his dreams of getting an education and a career and having a life, for as soon as he was ‘ _sponsored’_ he could kiss school goodbye, and all of his friends, few that they were.  He wouldn’t let it happen.  

He was at the kitchen door, stuffed rucksack on his back when suddenly he was yanked back.  “Where in the hell do you think you are going?”  His father snarled.

John yanked out of his grasp.  “I’m not staying here and letting you ruin my life.  I’m leaving.”

Once more his father grasped him, hard around the upper arm.  “You belong to me until you’re eighteen” He leered down at John, a disgustingly pleased smile spread across his lips.  “You run and the cops will just bring you right back unless you are bonded.  The only place you are going is to whatever Alpha who will, very graciously I might add, volunteer to bond with you.”

John yanked his arm free and fled the room, his lungs shrinking and pushing all the oxygen from his body.  He only just made it to his room before he slid to the ground, trying to take in much-needed gulps of air, though they seemed to be doing very little.  His father was right.  He was an Omega, therefore he was owned, despite what the law said.

His sisters taunting words, of no Alpha ever wanting him, made his breaths come easier, but then his mother's reassurance that there was an Alpha for everyone restricted them once more.  So it was like this, panicking and calming in quick successions for a good half hour before John, cried out and exhausted, finally calmed down and fell asleep on the floor in his bedroom.  When he awoke, several hours later, it was to a completely quiet house.  

Nervously, John stood up from his place on the floor and eased open his door.  The house was never this quiet.  There was always the sound of the radio playing softly in the kitchen while his mum prepared dinner, or the sound of Harry, yacking on the phone to one of her many so-called-friends.  Even of an evening time, the loud, thunderous snores of his father rumbled through the walls.  This silence was just uncomfortable.  

As John made his way down the stairs, it turned out that the house wasn’t as silent as he originally thought.  He crept through the living room, thankful for the soft carpet that muted his footsteps and neared the kitchen.  That was when he heard his mother, quietly pleading with his father. 

“Just think about it, Malcolm” he heard her say to his father.  John almost scoffed.  His father never thought about anything.  He was a bull-headed Alpha.  It was his way or no way.  It was his mothers next words that tuned the sneer on his face to a look of heartbreak.

“You know it is going to be a wasted venture.  Any Alpha who looks at him is going to take one sniff and be instantly turned off.  Life is going to be hard for him as it is.”

John bit his bottom lip to stop the sob from coming out.  Everything his mother was saying, it completely went against everything she had told him the past two years.  Everything she said had been a lie. 

“Let him go to school and live a normal life as possible.  Maybe he can get a job as a teacher or childminder somewhere.  Something that will provide an income for him.  We both know that there is not going to be an Alpha to look after him.”

John didn’t hear any more.  He didn’t want to.  He turned and went back upstairs just as quietly as he had gone down them, his mother's words making him more nauseous than his father's actions ever had.

It was true that John didn’t want to bond but to hear his own mother say that no-one would want him.  It had hurt, as did the fact that she thought he was only good enough to be a teacher or glorified babysitter.  

All his life she had told him to reach out and grab what he wanted, to not let anyone get in the way of his dreams.  She had told him, always, that he could be whoever he wanted, and once again, it had all been lies.  She had been lying in order to comfort him.  After all, that was what Omegas did.  They comforted their partner and their offspring.  They kept them happy.

It was that thought, the thought of his mother playing to the needs of her family, like a pathetic, mindless drone, programmed to do what she was told, that made John wipe the tears in his eyes away and to make a vow there and then.

John was not going to let his stupid secondary gender stop him from achieving his goals.  He was going to prove his father, and his mother, wrong.  He could accomplish good things, and damned if anything they, or anyone else, did was going to stop him.  

He was going to prove everyone wrong.  And he, an Omega, was going to do it on his own.

~o~

While life at home since he had presented had been hard on John, his school life had been surprisingly okay.  Except for one week.  

It had taken his classmates just over two years to realise that he was taking time off regularly.  To be fair, his lack of scent had steered most people to the wrong assumption that he just hadn’t presented yet.  And after a year of getting heats monthly, they had started to taper off.  

It had been Sebastian Moran who had put two and two together.  Before that, a grand total of two other people had known.  Johns two best friends, Toby a properly functioning Omega and Noel an Alpha and neither had cared.  Toby had said that John was lucky that he wasn’t getting pawed at every month because of something he couldn’t control.  Noel was just glad John wasn’t going to be a distraction to his constant studying.  If the teachers knew, they didn’t say anything.

But then Sebastian Moran, Rugby vice-captain, noted that he was missing a practice at the same time every couple of months.  And Sebastian, being the snarky bastard that he was, decided to share his deductions with the entire rugby team.  Some called him barking mad. ‘ _There is no way Watson is an Omega.  You’d smell it a mile off_ ’ most of them said but Sebastian, having to show off that he was cleverer than them all, laid it all out for them and on top of it, had managed to unearth information, from god only knew where, about the very limited population of scentless Omegas, presenting the evidence like a cherry on top of the proverbial cake.

It had taken less than half a day for the news to spread.  John Watson was a defective Omega.  The taunting began before the day was out.  Jeers and insults were thrown his way.  

John had tried not to let it bother him, but the words were familiar.  And they cut deep.  He was a freak of nature.  Defective.  Useless.  Untouchable.  It was a good thing that John’s friends were happy to speak up in his defence.

There was a partition going around to get him kicked off the rugby team by the end of the second day.  Those who didn’t even like the game were signing their name to it. Thankfully, the coach and the captain were not prepared to get rid of their fastest runner.  If he could play, he could stay. 

People wouldn’t sit next to him in class, scared they were going to catch whatever it was John had.  Because John was a respectful and intelligent student, the teachers had several talks with their classes about treating people equally and with respect.  They also dispelled any rumours that any student in the school was defective or contagious in any way.  

After a week, it was clear that John hadn’t suffered enough.  In the changing rooms, after rugby, Sebastian and two of his little followers cornered John.  

“Looks guys” Sebastian started, glaring down at John, a manic gleam in his eyes.  “Looks like our freaky Omega is all alone.”

John ignored him and tried to push past.  He was stopped by Sebastian's hand on his chest.  “How about I let you know what it will feel like to have a real Alpha.  ‘ts not like you’re going to get any other offers.”

John tried to walk past again.  “No thanks,” he mumbled, knowing he had to get out, but refusing to let them see how scared he was.  

Once again, he was stopped by a hand on his chest, but this time it pushed him back against the wall.

“A week and a half and you’ll be begging for my cock, Watson” Sebastian sneered and John was even more worried that the Alpha had learned his heat cycles.  He knew that Sebastian had always had a problem with him.  Since John had joined the team the previous year he had seen John as a threat to the position of captain once Riley left at the end of the year, but John had been unaware of how much the Alpha had hated him, until now.

“But, I’m not going to give it to you then, Watson” he hummed cheerily in John's ear.  “So I guess you had better take the offer now, ‘cause it’s the only Alpha cock you are ever going to get.  Who knows, maybe the boys here will have a go, as well.”

John looked to the two boys behind Sebastian.  Nathan was an Omega.  Bulky by normal standards and much larger than John.  Max was an Alpha, scrawny, but tough.  Johns only advantage against them was that he was smaller and faster, but he also knew that the odds were against him.  That didn’t mean he was going to sit back and play helpless Omega, though.  If they thought he wasn’t going to fight back, they had another thing coming.

“Again,” John said, slapping Sebastian's hand off of his chest.  “I’m not interested.”

Sebastian snarled and went to grab John, once more, but John knew it was coming and ducked out of the way and under Sebastian’s arm, making a run for the exit.

John made it two steps out of the changing rooms before hands grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back in.  Stumbling, John squirmed around to see that it was Max who had him, Sebastian and Nathan coming up behind him, anger on both their faces.  

John knew that he had to fight back, and fight back hard and dirty, if he were to get through this in one piece.  This was his only chance to prove that he wasn’t some swooning Omega, willing to submit to whatever Alpha arsehole decided John was their property.  If John didn’t make his stand now, no-one was going to take him seriously again. 

Reaching behind, John grabbed Maxes wrist and twisted hard enough that the boy yelled out and relinquished his grip on Johns top.  Still holding on, John spun around, using the leverage to pull Max to the ground and kick him in the ribs.  By now, Sebastian and Nathan had caught up to where John was panting angrily and Max was howling on the ground in pain.  

Sebastian bared his teeth and lunged at John.  John had predicted the move and stepped aside, using Sebastian's own momentum to slam the bigger Alpha’s head into the closest locker.  He dropped like the sack of shit he was.  That left one more arsehole.

John turned to find Nathan, backing away with his hands in the air.  The typical surrender pose.  It occurred to John that the Omega no longer had his Alphas to keep him safe.  John sneered.  Despite his size, Nathan was nothing more than a weak pathetic Omega.  Everything that John despised about his kind.  John spat at his feet.  “You are nothing” he hissed and then turned to leave, only to be stopped in his tracks by a small group of students blocking the entrance out of the changing rooms. 

“Move” John growled, not prepared to put up with anyone else's bullshit, and to his surprise, they did, every single one of them, slack-jawed and ogling the tiny Omega who had just taken down two Alphas single-handedly.

After that day, school was good again.  He had reclaimed the respect from his fellow students and it was hard for Sebastian to be a problem when he was no longer at the school anymore.

~o~

John was seventeen when he decided he would allow someone to share his heat with him.  It was a pretty Alpha girl going by the name of Donna.  They shared economics together and often sat next to each other in the cafeteria at lunchtime.  

Donna had auburn hair, brown eyes and liked to watch the rugby matches.  She smelt like daisies and cinnamon. 

John had allowed her to share his heat because his parents had gone up to Edinburgh for his aunt's wedding anniversary.  Harry would hardly be home and either too wasted or too hung over to notice that John had someone with him.  

At first, he had been nervous.  Donna had told him not to be.  This wasn’t her first heat.  She would ease him through it.  She would look after him.  

And to start off with, she had.  The sex had been great.  Far better than any of the toys he had hidden under his bed.

Not only could she fuck like a champion, but she could suck like one too and for the first half of the day, she took pleasure in bringing John off over and over again using her mouth, fingers and cock, knotting him twice.  

John had never felt so satisfied during a heat.  It was wonderful and glorious and he wondered why he hadn’t invited anyone in to share it with him before now. 

The answer came when John was getting ready to be knotted for the third time.  

Donna had gone downstairs to get a drink, leaving John to palm at his hard cock while he waited for her to return.  But he waited, and waited, and waited.  

It was after he had brought himself to a barely satisfying orgasm, that he heard it.  

Giggling coming down from the hallway.

Somehow, John managed to drag himself from the bed and open his door, ignoring the fluid sluicing down his legs.  As the giggles sounded once more, this time louder, a desperate keen escaped his throat.  Donna, his mate, the person seeing him through his heat, was in his sister's room.  By the sounds that followed, Donna and Harry were fucking, in his sister's room.  

John whimpered and shut the door, making his way to his bed.  

Ignoring the shaking in his body, he retrieved the box from under his bed and brought out the dildo he usually used to get him through his heats.  It was going to be pathetic, now that he knew what it had felt like to have a real Alpha knot him, but it was going to have to do.  

With pitiful whimpers, he got himself off and, trying not to cry, he fell into a fitful sleep until the need to be knotted once again overtook him.  When he awoke, it was to someone brushing the hair off of his forehead.  He smelt daisies and cinnamon before he even opened his eyes and not even the tinge of green apples (his sister's scent) could stop the satisfied smile forming on his lips.  Donna had come back.

When he opened his eyes, the smile dropped away.

Donna was dressed.

“Hey, sweetie” she crooned and John winced, pulling away from her touch as if it burnt.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, seeing the disappointment in his eyes.  “It’s just, well.  It wasn’t right” she said, reaching out to John, who was having trouble not reaching out and desperately grabbing onto her.  His heat was swelling up again and her Alpha scents were not making things easier.

“It’s just, there was no…I don’t know…frenzy.  Nothing to keep me going.  Don’t get me wrong, the sex was wonderful, but, it was exhausting” she said, brushing her hands down her thighs as if straightening out crinkles in her trousers.  

“Not exhausting enough to stop you from fucking my sister” John managed to get out through clenched teeth.  God, he really shouldn’t be prolonging this.  He just needed her to either get out, or fuck him, and he knew which one he would place his money on.

There was silence on her end.  

“Get out” John finally managed, trying desperately to ignore the flush of liquid coming out of his backside.

“Call me when you’re over it, yeah?” she said standing up and taking a step toward the door.  “It’d be good to hook up out of your heat.”

“GET OUT” John roared, picking up the closest thing he could reach and chucking it at her.  Donna only just managed to miss getting hit in the head with a flying blue dildo and quickly made for the door, slamming it shut behind her.

A desperate moan left Johns throat as he realised he was going to have to get up in order to retrieve the dildo.  Three feet away had never seen like such a challenge before.

~o~

 John finished school in the top three of his class.  His homeroom teacher helped him fill out his applications to university and his biology, chemistry, English and PE teachers all wrote him strong letters of recommendation.  He had the brains to get into medical school and fulfil his dreams of becoming a surgeon.  There was nothing stopping him, not with the grades he had scored on his exams.  

Apparently, the board of Kings College thought otherwise.  What they did think, was that John would make a wonderful nurse and had sent him an acceptance letter into their school of nursing. 

John was gutted.  He had applied to two other universities.  One had rejected him outright and he was waiting for a response from the last one.  He wasn’t holding his breath.

John sat in his room, the rejection/acceptance letter scrunched in his hand and just stared out the window.  His father had puffed up satisfactorily at hearing Johns news, telling him that he had told him he was wasting his time with all that extra study.  John was an Omega.  Even people who didn’t know him knew that he didn’t have what it took to be a leader.  He then started banging on about how he should be grateful that he was able to apply in the first place.  In his day, the omegas job wasn’t to go out and get educated.  It was to stay home and look after the children.  Harry had outright laughed at him, Calling him a loser, telling him the university had only offered him a position in nursing because they felt sorry for him.  

John reacted by telling their father that Harry had been sleeping with female Alphas.  Somehow, John had been punished for that, the bruise on his face was still developing.

His mother had brought him a bag of frozen peas for his face and several cups of tea, all of them untouched and gone cold before being replaced with a new one. 

Nursing.  A job predominately filled by Omegas.  There to be ordered around by Alphas and to do the work Alphas didn’t want to do.  Work they deemed to demeaning to their higher status.

John would be dishing out medication and giving sponge baths.  That was all he was worth.  All these years, his father had been right.  John was an Omega.  He had a place in the world and it was not with a _Doctor_ in front of his name.

Resigning himself to the fact that he had over-dreamed, John placed the crumpled letter on his desk, pulled his shoes on and made his way, silently, downstairs.  He needed not to be here.  He needed to be alone.

~o~

“You have never been a quitter, John Watson.  Don’t you dare start now!”  Mrs Ferguson was an older Omega, but she was hard as steel.  It was she, who had encouraged John to apply for medical school in the first place, amazed at his grasp of advanced biology, along with the caring way he had helped his fellow students.  

“I’m not quitting” John defended.  “I have just changed my aspirations.  Made them more fitting to my personality…”

“Bullshit!”

John was astounded.  Gobsmacked.  Absolutely fucking speechless.  Not once had he ever heard his teacher utter a single damn, let alone an actual swear word.

“You are using excuses, Watson and I won’t tolerate it.”

John had run into his biology teacher in the shopping centre, and clearly seeing that he was upset about something, she had offered to take him for coffee.  

“Now, I am not saying there is anything wrong with nursing, it is a very honourable profession, but you, John Watson, are far better than that.  You have so much more potential than a simple nurse.”

“But…” John started but found himself cut off again.

“But, nothing.  You know damn well you should have got that position.  Your doubts are coming from your brute of a father, that ignorant troglodyte.”

Again, John was left speechless.  Mrs Ferguson would never speak ill of a student's parents.  She was the epitome of respecting one's elders.

“Now, I know someone who is on the board of Kings, and we go way back,” she said, straightening out the napkin that had become skewed during her little outburst.  “I’ll send him an email tonight and just see if we can’t get you the position you worked hard to get and rightly deserve.”

John felt that he could do nothing but nod his head and agree, and drink the coffee she had so nicely brought him.

~o~

John sat nervously in front of a panel of six serious and grumpy looking Alphas, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.  A quick glance at his watch showed that he had been there for forty-five minutes.  Three-quarters of an hour of them asking him gruelling questions about his studies, his grades, his extra-curricular activities, why he should be accepted into Kings College, above another student who would be more suited ( _an Alpha_ ) to the course John was so eager to get into.

John had given strong, confident answers to each and every question.  Not once had he faltered under their stern glares.  He had kept his words short, professional and respectful.  

It was only now, as the Alphas before him looked over the papers in front of them, shuffling things about and reading reports John knew they had already read, that John was starting to feel nervous.  It was the silence and the nothing to do but sit there that was leaving him trying very hard not to squirm.

Mrs Ferguson had held true to her word and with a very strongly worded email to her friend, mentioning her own brother who was an Alpha lawyer who advocated for Omega rights, John had an interview at Kings College.  It had only taken a week.  So, here was John in his best suit and with his mother and Mrs Ferguson waiting out in the corridor for him while he sat what was going to most likely be the most important interview of his life. 

Finally, the dean of the university, who had been sitting on the panel, looked up at John.

“The fact that you will have to take time off for your heats will not be accepted as an excuse for falling behind.  It is an extremely extensive course, Mr Watson, and you will be given no favours just because of your gender” were the final words from the dean.  Had he expected John to find these parting words daunting in any way then he would have been disappointed. 

John somehow managed to succeed in suppressing his grin. 

“I fully agree” was Johns response and he then departed to take the news to his mother and teacher.

He had made it.  He was going to medical school.  He was going to become a surgeon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's time at university proves to be just as challenging, if not more so, than his time at high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while, but I hadn't forgotten about you all. It just took longer than I thought to get this chapter together. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

~~~~~~~~~~

University was a lot like high school, but with less time to do anything in.  There were classes that John flourished in.  What he didn’t pick up naturally, he thrived on the challenges that the tougher subjects threw at him.  There was so much to learn.  What spare time he did have, little that it was, was spent with a local rugby team.  

When he had first applied to join, the current captain took one look at him and outright laughed.  The laughter only lasted as long as it took for John to tackle the rude bastard to the ground.  The coach saw the speed and strength John had used to take down a man nearly twice his size and decided, there on the spot, that John would have a chance to try out. 

By the end of the tryouts, it was clear that John was going to be one of the newest members of the Belsize Park rugby team.

A few familiar faces from school had managed to make their way into Kings College but only one that he was comfortable with.  Toby had been accepted into the anesthesiology course.  Omegas were encouraged to join this line of work as they were naturally calming by nature.  It helped patients who were especially nervous about their upcoming medical procedures settle in with an acceptable heart rate before being put under.  The more relaxed the patient the less chance of there being complications with the surgery. 

Noel had been accepted into a computer engineering course at a University in Japan, breaking their small group up but that was fine as he was always better at communicating through computers anyway, so they emailed frequently.

As expected, there were issues related to his secondary gender.  John knew this was going to be a hurdle and was prepared for it.  The lecturers looked down at him while they made it quite clear to the class that they would not be simplifying or minimising the workload for any student who was not well equipped for the course.  If they couldn’t handle what they were given, they would fail.  It was as clear and simple as that.  

John’s response was to nod his head in full agreement and then buckle down and study.   By the end of the first term, his lecturers realised that John wasn’t there just to prove a point. He was there because he wanted to be there and  was indeed intelligent and stubborn enough to pass this course successfully and auspiciously succeed at his chosen profession once he finished his studies, more so than half of the Alphas who struggled along beside him.

The other students were a bit harder to win over.  To be fair, most left him alone, even if they did sneer whenever he walked into one of their classes, but then there were the few, who happened to also be the loudest on campus, that thought John would run and cower if a few poorly thought insults were thrown his way. 

“Oi, Watson” John heard yelled at him one day, six months into his first year, as he stopped at the water taps to get a drink.  He looked around to see Callum Hughes, the loudest neanderthal on campus waving him over.  John ignored him and started walking in the other direction.  

“You know what you need to make you realise your place in this world,” Callum asked, quickly catching up with John.

John rolled his eyes.  Couldn’t they come up with anything original?

Callum stepped in front of John, stopping him in his tracks.  John let out a resigned sigh.  

“A real Alpha knot” was the answer John was given, and just in case John didn’t get what Callum was implying, the Alph reached down, grabbing his own crotch, giving it a good squeeze.

John looked down, dumbly, at Callum fondling himself before looking back up at his face.  “When I find a real Alpha, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind” he deadpanned and then stepped around a slightly stunned Callum and kept walking.

He didn’t get far before a hand on his shoulder stopped him.  

“What would a defect like you, know about real Alpha’s” came the growled voice behind him, and the grip on his shoulder tightened to something painful.  

John wanted to scream in frustration.  Was he really going to have to prove himself everywhere he went.? Couldn’t people just leave him alone?  The tugging on his shoulder to spin him around answered that apparently, no, he wasn’t going to be left alone.  

Before the moron in front of him could do anything further, John had him up against the wall, hand around his throat.  

“You fucking touch me again” John hissed, “And I will break every bone in your fucking hand, have I made myself clear?”

Due to the grip on his throat tightening, Callum could barely reply verbally, so he gave a short nod, as well as he could while being pinned to the wall by a surprisingly strong Omega, and John let go, not caring that the body slid down the wall, taking massive gulps of air.  Nor did he take note of the body of students who had watched, stunned at his actions, as he made his way to class.  

While it didn’t completely stop, the taunting and belittling did slow down after that day.

Not all Alphas had been horrible to John.  In fact, within the first few weeks, John had made friends with two Alphas.  Mike Stamford and Mary Morstan.  Both were training to become doctors and one, if not both, were in all of John’s classes and both were accepting of Toby as well.  To them, gender didn’t matter.  Nor did the fact that John didn’t have a scent.  They had asked very politely worded questions, purely out of curiosity, but had been happy with the limited answers that John gave, not pushing for more information.  

Not only were they friendly, but they were smart and extremely helpful.  Despite his heats only being once every few months, John still had to take time off to cater to them.  During this time both Mike and Mary, as well as Toby - whom John shared one class with - were happy to take extensive notes and then set up study weekends once John had recovered from his heats, so he wouldn’t fall behind. 

As the year progressed, John made more friends and continued to excel in his classes, ranking in the top five every test or exam they had.  

Unfortunately, this meant nothing to his father.  While his mother praised every good report her son brought home, his father would snap and snarl, telling his wife not to encourage him.  He was only going to end up failing.  John had already embarrassed the family by being not only an Omega but a freak as well. Attempting to pursue something well out of his reach was just making it worse.  The impending failure was going to make the Watson family a laughing stock.

All this was said, despite Harry regularly coming home in the early hours (sometimes the later hours) of the morning, drunk or hung-over and getting into a row with their father over missing class or losing yet another eligible Omega.  When she was sober, she couldn’t do anything wrong.  When she was like this, their father would preen over how well she was doing, and how he knew the Omega she had been dating was nothing but a troublemaker.  His Harriet deserved so much better than an Omega who was going to neglect their rightful duties.  Most of this was said, pointedly in John’s direction.

His father refused to pay for any of John’s supplies, including the expensive textbooks that were prescribed as part of the course.  This meant that John had to find work.  For months he looked and with no success.  People weren’t prepared to take on an Omega, especially an unbonded one.  It was apparently not worth the hassle of having to reschedule shifts to cater for heats, nor the trouble it would bring when Alphas tried to compete for their affections.  John was having no luck, but at least he had Toby to commiserate with.  He too was unable to find employment.

It had just been his luck that he stumbled across a 24-hour coffee shop, towards the end of his first year, one night after a rare outing to the pub.  He ducked in to get out of the rain and grabbed a coffee to warm up and sober up until the worst of the rain stopped.  It was there that he met Estelle, a middle-aged Omega who owned the shop.  She had been complaining that good staff was hard to find, especially ones who would cover the skeleton shift.  John immediately offered himself up and picked up two shifts a week straight away.  

That all went well for a grand total of three months.  It was then that his sister realised that when John left the house at nine-thirty every Monday and Thursday, it wasn’t to go study and of course she told her father.  

Once his father found out John was working, he decided that the freeloader could start paying board.  The amount his father was charging took all but £23 of his weekly pay.  

That was the final straw.

It didn’t take much for Estelle to give him more shifts.  It took Mike and Toby a bit longer to convince that, should they pool their funds together, they could afford a small flat somewhere, close to the university.  

Within two weeks, Mike had agreed.  His parents would pay his rent, so long as his studies didn’t fail.  Toby, on the other hand, took longer to convince, mainly because he couldn’t find a job that was willing to give him time off for his heats.  His parents weren’t as well off as Mike’s and could only give him a small allowance each week, barely enough to cover rent, let alone bills and food.  But eventually, he found two jobs that would cater for his studying and heats.  On top of the tutoring he did twice a week, he decided that he could afford to move in with John and Mike.  

During the break between first and second year, the three boys moved in together.  Mike copped a fair bit of friendly ribbing and even a few dirty glares about moving in with two unbonded Alphas.  The two Omegas copped more flack about moving in with an Alpha.  The word ‘ _slut_ ’ was used frequently, but both boys chose to ignore it, and eventually, it died down.

It was a good set up.  John and Toby took the rooms at the back, so their heats wouldn’t bother Mike too much, but Mike usually went to out for the six to seven days that Toby was indisposed and that was if Toby wasn’t at his current Alpha’s place.  

Johns heats didn’t bother anyone but John.

~o~

John bit his bottom lip and scrunched his eyes closed.  The cramps would pass.  He just had to ride it out.  Unfortunately, once they were over with, he would be so horny, he’d be willing to fuck anything that would sit still long enough.  

He had four days of this to look forward to.  Five if he were unlucky.  Thankfully, his heats had never expanded to last the full seven days, like most Omegas did.  

John breathed through another wave of pain, rolling through his abdomen and focused on the sounds outside of his room, rather than the turmoil that his body was going through.

On the other side of his door, he could hear his flatmates going through the motions of everyday life.  John no longer worried about what went on outside his door while he went through this.  

At first, when the boys had moved in together just over a year and a half ago, John had been embarrassed about the Mike and Toby hearing him.  He had never had to quieten himself before as the walls at his house had been thick, with carpet on all the floors.  

This new dwelling had thin walls and wooden floors. Sounds amplified easily.  It didn’t take long to realise that both Mike and Toby were louder than John, especially since they both had someone else in the room with them.  

If it ever got too loud, the other occupants found somewhere else to be or turned the Music up.  

Mike, on the odd occasion he brought an Omega home, even went as far as leaving a stack of CD’s next to the stereo that featured music that he ‘ _ liked to fuck to _ ’.

John rolled over, as he heard the shuffling in the hallway, and buried his face into the pillow, biting the material to stop the moan.  God, he just wished this part would end and the true heat would start.  As much as the wanting and needing a knot and not getting one - a real, proper one - was frustrating, it was better than the stomach cramps and nausea.  Again, this wouldn’t be a problem if he had an Alpha.  An Alpha would release scents that would calm his stomach but John hadn’t had time to find anyone for the start of this heat.  Again.

Often, he could find someone to agree to spend the first twenty-four hours with him.  Usually, if they lasted that long, the grew very tired, very quickly as when there is not a frenzied rut happening within the other partner, near-constant sex gets boring and tiring, very quickly.

Twice he had had an Alpha leave within the first hour, feeling too uncomfortable at the lack of scent.  

One didn’t even last that long, calling John a freak and telling him to please not contact him again.

He had managed to get a few regular Alphas, who were happy to share at least a part of his heat, but they weren’t always available and one of them had even bonded, so was no longer available at all.  He couldn’t even organise to use different Alphas at different times of the heat because the scent of one would send the next one feral and John knew he would be in no state to get up and clean and air out his room in between Alphas.  That, and he would feel like the Omega whore people had often accused him of being.

Unfortunately, with midterms coming up, he had run out of time to organise anyone, so he was going through his second heat in a row, completely alone.

John cringed as another wave of nausea pulsed through his stomach and was so busy being miserable, he didn't’ hear the first knock on his door.

The second knock came followed by a quiet, but concerned “John?”

John turned his head, so he was looking at his bedroom door, Mary standing on the other side.

“John?” She repeated, this time a bit louder.  

With great effort, John pulled himself off of the bed and made his way to the bedroom door, cracking it open, just a bit, to look at the blonde Alpha on the other side.  

Mary looked back at him, her blue eyes, big with concern for him.

“I know you have turned down my offers in the past, but, it’s been two heats now and you haven’t had anyone. Are you sure I can’t help.”

John shook his head.  Both Mary and Mike had offered, on multiple occasions, to help him through his heat.  John had considered it at first.  It was an appealing offer, especially by Mary, who John may have fancied, just a bit, but with more consideration, he realised that it would make things weird between them.

As much as their intentions were good, John couldn’t risk them not being able to look him in the eye when they realised just how broken he really was.  It was all fine and good in theory, thinking they could keep up with an Omega, but too many hadn’t realised how much they relied on that scent and freaked out when they realised it wasn’t there.  He saw the way those people looked at him in the corridors and lecture halls.  He couldn’t bear for Mary or Mike to look at him that way.

“Thank you, Mary, but really, I’ve gone longer without a partner.  I’ll be alright.”

Mary kept looking at him and John knew that his true heat would soon be on him.  He could smell her Alpha and it was starting to make him feel a bit frantic.  

“John, it’s not healthy for you to go too often without an Alpha.  You know this.  We studied…”

“I know what we studied, Mary” John snapped, and then instantly felt bad.  “Sorry” he muttered and then clenched the doorframe as another cramp hit.

“They are going to get worse with each heat,” Mary told him, despite him already knowing how his own biology worked.  

John tried to take shallower breaths, trying not to breathe so much of Mary in.

“Please, Mary, just leave.  I need you to leave” he pleaded, but Mary wasn’t listening.  Instead, she reached through the gap in the door and placed her hand on John’s shoulder.  

“John, you need this.  Please, let me do this for you.” 

John would have held back, he really would have, but as she spoke the last few words, she had leant forward and her scent had increased. Instantly, his stomach started to settle and he seemed to calm down.

“Please, John.”

And with that, John’s last bit of resolve crumbled.  He stepped back and opened the door, allowing Mary, his Alpha friend, to come into his room.

~o~

The heat lasted three days.  After six hours, Mary had left John’s bed to go shower, but only after he was asleep.  She made sure he had plenty to eat and drink and made sure his preferred toys were within easy reach while she slept out on the couch to recuperate.  After a few hours of sleep, she came back to John and helped him through more of his heat. This continued over the three days.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was far better than anything he had had in the past.

As Mary laid behind him, joined with her knot in his arse, he knew that it would be the last time for this time round.  John hoped it wasn’t the absolute last time.  

Her small hand curled over his hip and rested on his stomach, pulling him a bit closer. 

“Did it help?” she asked.

A tired smile stole over John’s lips.  She knew it had helped, but Mary loved fishing for compliments.

“More than you will know” John replied.  “Thank you,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

Mary’s hand moved up to his chest and she nuzzled the back of his neck.  John mourned the loss of the fact that it wasn’t the side of his neck.  Normally, Alphas, any Alpha, would be drawn to the part of his neck that joined his shoulder, despite whether they were bonded or not, but Mary wasn’t even remotely interested. 

“anytime” She replied lazily, and rolled her hips as another, lesser, orgasm pushed its way out through her penis and into John.  A satisfied sigh left John’s throat, despite his thoughts, as he felt her fill him up even more.  “And, I do mean, anytime, John.  This wasn’t a hardship for me.  I just wish I could have kept up more.”

John took temporary comfort in her words.  He would have to wait and see what would happen once they were out of the bedroom and back in civilised society.

~o~

As it turned out, it didn’t get weird at all.  Apart from a few shy glances and a couple of awkward, but small conversations in the first few days, things went back to the way they were.  

John knew it wasn’t a permanent thing.  He knew that outside of his heats they would never be an item.  Mary wanted a life partner.  One that would give her plenty of children.  She had no siblings and wanted to make up for it by having a large brood of her own.

But for two years, Mary helped John through his heats.  While she was there, he didn’t need any other Alphas and it was good.  At times it was even fun.  

But then there was Mark.

Mark arrived when they were in their fifth year.  He was younger and prettier than John and worked in the library.  

Mark came from a large family and wanted one of his own.  He didn’t want a career.  He wanted an Alpha to look after him and he wanted to provide for his Alpha.  He was a typical Omega and the second he saw Mary, he was in love.  

It took Mary six months to realise that Mark, while not overly exciting, was actually a perfect match for her.

She could work and provide a comfortable home and a decent income for him.  He came from good breeding and could give her the family she had always dreamed of.  He was strong and healthy and they had quite a few common interests.  

It was six months after Mark arrived, as they laid in bed after sharing another heat, that Mary told John that would be the last time she could share his heats, because, as of the next day, she was courting the Omega.  John understood, and he was happy for her.  How could he not be.  She was one of his best friends and he had known that what they had was temporary.  Maybe he had thought it would have lasted, just that bit longer.

~o~

It didn’t take long for the announcement.  Three months in fact, for Mary to come to class and announce to her small group of friends that She and Mark had bonded.  The ceremony was to be in two week’s time and they were invited. 

John smiled on the outside and congratulated her but on the inside a small part of him was miserable.  It was the part of him that had secretly hoped that Mary and Mark would not work out.

It was the secret part of him that would grieve the human touch, he knew he wouldn’t get during his next heat.  The heat that was due any day now.  The heat that he hadn’t organised another Alpha for because he had secretly hoped…

~o~

The bonding ceremony was pleasant.  

It was small and intimate.  Mary had no family, so it was just her friends.  Marks family hadn’t wanted to be too overbearing so it was his immediate family and a few of his friends.

A minister performed the ceremony, binding their hands in ribbon as they took their vows.  Mary bit Marks bond mark again, to prove that he belonged to her (which was a ridiculous notion, as anyone in the room could smell that they belonged to each other)and then it was time for the reception. 

There was small talk, food, wine, speeches and cake.  Then there was dancing.  Overall, it was a good night.  And John had managed to push that voice, the one that was depressed - the one that told him that he would never have any of this, to the back of his mind and enjoyed himself.  Even if it was just for a few hours.

~o~

Had John thought that all the studying he had had to do was hard, he had been wrong.  So, so wrong.

His residency was the most mentally challenging and exhausting thing he had ever had to do in his life.  

It helped that over the past year, that his heats had fallen into a clockwork-like routine - three days every five months - so he knew, months in advance, when he needed to be rostered off.  

Finding an attending physician had been tricky, but once most people go to know him, and his reputation as a very determined and able Omega, most warmed to him rather quickly.

The prescribed roster was to work forty-eight hours a week, but John soon learnt that it wasn’t often that he didn’t push sixty, sometimes more.  He didn’t mind though because it was mentally challenging.  He got to use all that he had learnt and put it into practice.  He got to learn more.  

John took on every opportunity, to do something new, that he could and offered his free time for extra training programs.  

This left less time for paid work, which meant that his social life suffered, but he didn’t mind.  What he missed the most, was the rugby, but he just didn’t have time for it, nor the energy.  

Johns knowledge grew, as did his skill and over the first year of his residency, the people he worked and trained with fell into four categories.  

The largest one didn’t give a shit what his gender was and whether it worked properly or not.  They weren’t there to fuck him, they were there to do a job.  John liked these people the most. 

The next group was a few who thought doctoring was a profession suitable only for Alphas.  Omegas were too tender and did not have a strong enough disposition to take on the burden that being a doctor brought.  John enjoyed showing them up.  

An even smaller group celebrated the fact that an Omega was pushing for more rights in the world and continually invited him along to seminars and pep rallies, trying to bring him into their group as a vocal advocate for Omega rights.  John declined every time.  If other Omegas wanted to make their way in the world then they would have to do it without Johns support.  

The smallest group (two members in total) had heard about his lack of scent and found John fascinating enough to actually ask if they could study him.  John was never sure if he should feel flattered at their attentions or if he should run far away.  He usually took the middle road and thanked them for their interest and then made up some bull-shit excuse as to why he had to leave.

Since Mary, John had never been able to find another Alpha that would share his heats, as she had.  Mike had admitted, after John and Mary’s second heat, that he couldn’t do what she was doing.  John hadn’t held it against him at all.  It was the honest truth.  Heats with John were exhausting and wrong.  Mary had been an anomaly.  A one-off.  John would never expect to find another like her. Plus, Mike had taken up an offer to do his residency in Canada, so even if had been willing to share John’s heats, he doubted very much that he would be willing to fly to London, once every five months, to do so.

Having a broader range of people he now knew, John had more people to ask.  Unfortunately, they were all getting to the age where, if they hadn’t bonded, they were looking to, soon.  Most were happy to share a heat with John, until they realised the implications.  Some found very polite ways of wording the request, while others told him, at the last minute, that they had had an offer from another Omega. The ‘ _ One with a scent _ ’ went unspoken.  A few joined him for the first day while most flat-out refused.

He spent every second or third heat alone.  But it was all fine.  This was what he was used to.  He could cope, so that was what he did. 

~o~

John shot back another drink and watched Toby dance with his mate, Kyle.  He felt bad because he couldn’t bring himself to be as happy about Toby as he had about Mary at her bonding ceremony, but then again, Mary hadn’t been an Omega excitedly telling everyone that his fertility tests had come back with more than satisfactory results and that he could expect to fall pregnant during his first heat, as soon as he finished his training.

Mary hadn’t had Tony’s aunt there, asking John when he was ready to settle down and have a family.

So John knocked back another shot and snagged a glass of champagne from the waiter who was walking past, carrying a full tray of glasses.

Kyle was wonderful, just like Mark had been.  He was big and strong and very protective of Toby, yet not overbearing.  He was studying law and was happy to let Toby continue with his studies.  He was even happy for Toby to work part-time, once their pups had been born and were no longer breastfed.   It wasn't the prison sentence John felt his mother had had, but Toby still had restrictions all the same.

John felt a wave of satisfaction fill him as he realised, once again, that he would never have those restrictions, even if he would also never have a life partner or a family of his own.  But that was fine.  It was all fine.  

John knocked back the glass of champagne and made his way to the bar.  He was sure he saw a bottle of tequila on the shelf as he walked past earlier.

~o~

Ten years. That was how long it had taken him to get to this point in his life.  He was now a qualified general surgeon.  One of the very few Omegas that held such a title.  A newspaper, a magazine and 2 medical journals had contacted him, wanting to do an interview, but John wasn’t interested.  As selfish as it seemed, John hadn’t done this for other Omegas.  He had done it for himself.  He offered support to those he came across, but he wasn’t about to be the poster child for some Omega movement.

It had been a long haul, but despite the struggle and the insults, the long hours and lack of sleep; in spite of the lack of confidence and the inconvenience of hormones and the self-doubt and the poor, but regular diet of coffee and beans, John finally managed to finish.  He was a doctor and a trauma surgeon, one of the few Omegas in the UK who had completed such a feat and had that been his only ambition in life, there probably would have been few other struggles in his life.  The hard part would have been over.  But John Watson was not a man that let life easily pass him by.  If John Watson thrived on anything, it was a challenge.  

It was this attitude that saw him try and get over yet another hurdle, to defy the place of an Omega one more time.  

It was why Doctor John Hamish Watson, Omega and former flanker on his local Rugby team decided to join the Royal Army Medical Corps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if I got the study/residency times wrong. I couldn't find any clear, concise answers as to how long it actually takes to train to be a general surgeon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, John does not let his Omega status stop him from doing what he wants. With or without the support of family, John joins the army.

~~~~~~~~~~

Suppressants.  The best thing in the world.  And were now available to John because he was in a secluded area in a high risk, government job. 

Apart from the rare health problem that warranted the use of suppressants to control, this was the only time an Omega was allowed to be on suppressants. 

Even apparent barren Omegas weren’t allowed them, due to the long-term effects, and the possibility that maybe, they might fall pregnant even if it was a small possibility.  If the possibility of falling pregnant was absolutely zero, then most opted for a hysterectomy which meant no heat.

But here he was, signing up to be surrounded by Alphas and in an extremely high-risk job.  Adding heats to that mix, even heats that affected no one but John, was just asking for trouble, so the army had been happy to supply him with suppressants and John had never been happier.

Getting into the army had been hard.  Harder than getting into medical school.  

John had had to prove that his heats would not affect the other Alphas in camp, which involved extensive medical and psychological tests.  He had then had to prove that he was physically able to join.  He was put through gruelling workouts and exercises.  He was put up against Alphas much larger than himself, on fighting mats.  Every time he was beaten by one it would make him more determined to beat the next until eventually, he won the respect of the moderators.  

Finally, he had to prove his worth as a surgeon.  In all honesty, it was this test that had pissed him off the most.  He had expected the others.  These were things that he had had to fight against since he presented as an Omega.  Even with the many positive and praising reports from the people he had worked with and under, he was still tested, having yet another moderator sit-in in the surgical theatre while John operated.  The fact that he had specialised in emergency trauma was another tick in the box, getting him that bit closer to his latest dream.

Finally, after months of testing and interviewing and demonstrating, he got an answer.  

He was allowed to join the army, only if he signed a waiver stating that he would take the suppressants, knowing that long-term use could have adverse effects on his reproductive system and that the army would not be held responsible for any problems stemming from the taking of said suppressants.  

John had eagerly signed the dotted lines where it said  _ here, here _ and  _ here _ and thanked the woman who had delivered the good news.

~o~

His mother wept when he told her that he had been accepted.  Unfortunately, they weren’t tears of joy.  Kaye could not understand why her baby was not happy with all that he had succeeded so far.  He had worked hard and she was proud of him, and he should be proud of himself. 

“I am proud, mum,” he told her, taking her hand from across the kitchen table.  He had come home to tell her this news, knowing that the familiar comforts of her everyday surroundings would help ease the distress John knew she was going to experience.  “But, I know I am capable of so much more.  There are other things I could be doing, places to see, life to experience.  I can’t do that sitting here in London.”

Kaye Watson used the scrunched up hankie in her hand to wipe away the fresh set of tears. “But what if you are injured, or worse.  What if you are...you are…” and a fresh wave of sobs broke out from the small woman sitting across from him.

John got up and walked around to where his mother sat and pulled her against his body.  He knew it wouldn’t do any good, she wouldn’t be able to smell it, but he released as many calming pheromones as he possibly could, needing to do something to calm her down.

Eventually, the tears dried up and the sobs subsided and she hugged John back, her thin arms wrapping around his waist.

“When do you leave?” she asked, her voice muffled by his jumper.

“Three weeks, I go to Sandhurst.  There will be training and then it is just a matter of waiting to see where I am needed.”

Mrs Watson patted John’s hip and that was his cue to let go.  He dropped his arms and stepped back. His mother looked up, a watery, but genuine smile on her face.  “You have done so much,” she said, taking Johns hand in her own and squeezing tight.   “I am so very proud of you.  Of all you have accomplished.  Sometimes I think the ladies at my church group don’t believe a word I am saying when I tell them about you.”

John squeezed her hand back, keeping the comment that he didn’t believe anything they said either, before sitting back at the table.  “I’ll send you a postcard from wherever I’m posted,” John said with a genuine smile.  “Maybe that will be enough to appease them.”

Kaye smiled at her son, across the table and went back to sipping her tea, which had now gone rather cool.  John also picked up his cup only to set it back down as his mother jumped at the sound of the front door slamming open and then shut again.

Speaking of appeasing people, John’s father was apparently home.

Out of habit, rather than respect for his father, John stood when his father entered the room.  Malcolm took one look at John and said nothing as if John wasn’t even in the room.

Instead, he looked to his wife.  Taking in her puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks he looked back to John, this time with anger.

“You come to tell us you have finally failed, then” his father sneered.  

“No” John replied, but his father didn’t listen.

“You put your mother through hell, and I warned you.  I told you, you would fail.  If you think you can come back here and…”

“I didn’t fail,” John said loudly, overriding his father.  

Malcolm stopped and stared at his son, a small sneer on his lips.  According to him, it was not an Omegas place to talk over an Alpha.  John didn’t care what his father thought.

“Despite what you think or the lack of faith and encouragement you have given me” John stated, standing up straighter, “I didn’t come here to tell you that I had failed and I most certainly have no desire, or intentions, of moving back in.  If you had bothered to pay even the slightest bit of attention to me, or to what I told mum, you would know that for the past eight and a half months, I have held a steady job at Bart’s hospital, working as one of their trauma surgeons. To be honest, I hoped, when I came here today, that I wouldn’t even see you.”

The sneer on Malcolm’s face grew the more John spoke.  It didn’t deter John at all.

“I actually came here to see my mother and to tell her about my latest achievement.”

“Don’t tell me somebody finally decided to breed you.”

John noted that his father had said breed and not bond.  He ignored the hurt that twinged, even after all these years that his parents still believed he would never find a mate for life and instead stood up that bit straighter again, proving that his father’s words would have no negative effect on him.

“No, that is not what I came here to tell mum.  I came here to tell her that I had been accepted into the Royal Army Medical Corps.  I leave for training in three weeks.”

Apart from the small sniffle from his mother, there was silence as his father parsed through the information John had just told him.

“You’re lying” his father finally growled.

John shook his head.  “I’m really not.”

“They don’t accept Omegas into the army.”

“No, they do, it is just rare.”

“What, and you believe you’re special enough to be a part of something like that?” his father said, an unpleasant smile spreading his lips.  “The only reason they let you join is so that the real troops will have a damp hole to use…”

Malcolm never got any further as it was at that moment that John’s fist made contact with his lower jaw, sending him staggering back against the wall.

John was vaguely aware of his mother whimpering in the background, too absorbed in the fact that he had just hit his father, the biggest bully he had ever encountered, to worry about calming her down.

His knuckles smarted as he flexed his fingers, but there was an overall rush of satisfaction running through his body at the fact that he had not only stood up for himself but had left his father speechless and dazed.

The condition didn’t last long.  Once Malcolm Watson got over the shock of being hit by his  _ Omega _ son, he straightened up and brought his own fist back to deliver a returning, stronger punch.

If he had been surprised at the fact that his son had hit him, then he was even more so when his punch didn’t land, but instead, he found himself, spun around with his arm pulled painfully up behind his back.

“You don’t ever get to speak to me like that again.  If you have nothing supportive to say, then do us all a favour and don’t speak at all.  If you can’t see that your own child is more than just something for someone else to fuck” and he punctuated the last word by kicking his father in the back of the knees, dropping him to the ground.  “Then you don’t deserve to speak to me at all.”

John let go of his father’s arm and stepped back.

“Get out” his father growled, moving into a sitting position and leaning against the wall.

“Get out of my house and don’t ever return.”

“Gladly” John replied with just as much hate.

He turned around and walked over to his mother, who was sobbing in her chair.

“I’m sorry” he whispered as he leant down to hug her.  “I’ll call you tomorrow. We can go out for lunch.  My treat” he said, and she reached up and hugged him back.  John kissed her on the cheek before walking towards the door.

“When you die over there” his father yelled, venom lacing every syllable, “Don’t expect me to go to your funeral.”

John stopped and turned to glare at his father, still slumped on the floor, nursing his wrist.  

“You assume that I would want you there” he replied and then, with a small smile and a nod to his mother, John turned back around and marched out of the house for the last time.

~o~

John opted not to do the PQO course.  It was tempting.  Ten weeks and he would be qualified.  But John wanted to learn it all.  He wanted to experience it all. That was why he entered the army as a direct entrant.  

It was forty-four weeks of taking orders, being yelled at for no reason, being pushed to his limits.  There were theory courses and practical exercises.  There were weapons training and further medical studies.  

And as always, there was the doubt and insults and the jeering from the Alphas.  Again, John had to prove to all of the others that he not only deserved to be there but deserved their respect, just as much as the next guy.  

The only thing that was different was that he did not have to stop for his heats.  

As soon as he got to the training camp, he was marched straight to the medical office and given his first injection. It would last two months before he would need another one, and so would continue the cycle until he either died or retired from the army.

It didn’t take long for John to make friends and once he made friends with a couple of the guys, most of the others soon realised that he was pretty easy going.  John put the fact that it took half the time, then when he was at uni to be accepted, down to the fact that most of the people here were older and more mature.  It also helped that when one of them injured themselves doing something they shouldn't have, they could avoid punishment by coming to John to get fixed up, rather than the actual medic on duty.  

Throughout his training, his mum kept in contact with him.  They exchanged letters and, when she was home alone, phone calls.  His father had tried to stop her from corresponding with her son, but for once in her life, Kaye Watson stood up to her husband.  

Apart from Mike and Toby, his mother’s letters were the only ones he received and he looked forward to them, knowing that she was well.  It was why, in his last week at training, he was surprised to receive a letter from Harry.  When he opened it, his world came to a stop.

_ Mum...hospital...stage four ovarian cancer...three months ago...not long to live… _

These were the words that jumped out of the letter.  These were the words that had John running to his commanding officer, requesting time off.  These were the words that had John catching the first train to London, cursing everyone for not letting him know earlier, for not calling him the second she had been admitted.

An hour and a half later he caught a taxi from the train station to St Thomas’ Hospital.  What he found there, was not at all what he was prepared for.  

The body that laid on the bed was apparently his mother, but if he hadn’t been told, he wouldn’t have believed it.  In fact, he was having a hard time believing it as it was.  If it wasn’t for Harry, sitting by her bedside, holding her hand, he would have assumed he had been directed to the wrong room. 

As he placed his bag on the floor, his sister looked up.  

“Johnny,” she said, quietly, and John could see that she hadn’t slept in a long time.

John walked over to the bed and gently held his mother’s other hand in his.  It was cold and fragile.  Her skin felt like paper and blue veins could be seen through the pale covering.  

“How?” he asked, his voice coming out as a husked whisper.  “How did this happen?  Why wasn’t I told?”

The anger in his body was warring with the grief and he wanted to yell at someone, to hurt someone, but he didn’t.  He stayed standing, holding his mother’s frail hand, waiting for an answer.

“I didn’t know she was ill until three weeks ago,” Harry said, not looking at John.  “I came home for a visit and I only had to take one look at her to know she wasn’t well.  She told me that she didn’t want to worry us kids.”

“Why didn’t dad tell us?”

An unamused snort came from Harry and John looked up at her, questioningly.  Harry had always had the utmost respect for their father.  Had been the golden child of the family, despite her many faults.  

“From what I can gather, he left mum to deal with this on her own.  She has been taking herself to appointments, has been keeping all of this bottled up and still making sure he has a fucking clean house and a hot meal to come home to.”

John could feel his blood boiling.  He could only hope his father didn’t make an appearance then because John was going to fucking kill the mongrel.  

“I was only going to stay for a few days, came home to tell her the good news.”

John stood and waited.  It wasn’t like his sister to hold back on any form of gloating.  It was a testament as to how much their mother’s illness was affecting her.  

Finally, she looked up at John.  “Me and Clara are going to bond.”  She smiled, but it wasn’t happy.  “The bonding ceremony was going to be in spring, mum always loved the idea of spring ceremonies.”

Harry stopped talking and bit her lip.  John let her compose herself.  

“She told me she was ill, but she was getting better, so I said that I would stay and help until she was.  Three days ago, she collapsed and she was brought here.  She didn’t want you to know - said you were far too busy to worry about her silly little ailments, but as soon as I heard that she was dying, I wrote you.”

“Why didn’t you call?”  John tried not to let the anger sound in his voice, but it was hard.

Harry had no answer.  She just shrugged.  John pushed his fury aside.  Now was not the time nor place for it.

“Where is he?” John asked, voice flat.  He didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about.  Harry would know.

“Pub, most likely” was Harry’s response and he couldn’t help but think that there was a longing in her voice as she answered. 

It took a lot for John’s hands not to clench in anger, and if he hadn’t been holding his mother’s hand, they would have.

The two siblings fell into a silence and both watched their mother sleep, the sounds of the machines, keeping her comfortable, beeping and hissing surrounding them, while the noises outside the hospice room reminded them that they weren’t the only ones there.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity.

~o~

Hours passed and John spoke to the doctors and nurses who were in charge of their mother’s care.  She was comfortable, the morphine that was making her sleep was also taking away the pain she was in.  The doctors were surprised she had lasted this long.  It was just a waiting game now. 

Twice, Kaye opened her eyes and it was clear that she was not all together there.  She smiled as her eyes landed on her children, but then she would fall back into a sleep and John and Harry would wonder if it would be the last time she would wake up.

At 4:27 the following morning, Kaye Gillian Watson passed away.  Her son and her daughter were by her side.  Her husband was not.

~o~

John’s life continued.  He went to his mother’s funeral, completely ignoring his father.  This didn’t seem to bother his father at all.

He met Harry’s fiancee and thought she was wonderful.  She seemed to be a good influence on Harry, so John instantly fell in love with her.  

He completed his training.  It wasn’t long after that he was sent to Afghanistan for the first time.  

The war zone wasn’t exactly what he had expected, but by no means left him disappointed. 

He was kept busy, even when there was no medical emergency, there was something to do.  There was PT, routine patrols, medical rounds, clinics for the local residents, stock requisition, laundry, inspections and then there was free time.  This was usually spent playing poker or practising shooting.  A few times the boys (and three women) would practice hand-to-hand combat, placing bets on who would win.  To start off with, no one placed their money on John.  That soon changed. 

He received few letters from home.  Mike had stopped, presumably, life had gotten in the way.  Toby sent the odd letter.  He had had his first pup and as any proud parent would, he sent photos.  She was adorable, which made it impossible to say no when Toby asked if he would be godfather. 

Toby planned the christening for the same time John was going to be home for Harry’s bonding ceremony, which John had been surprised he had been granted leave for, as he had only been overseas for five months.

John had been surprised that Harry had kept in contact.  Well, she sent the odd letter. Apart from her upcoming bonding ceremony, she rarely had anything positive to say, so John was glad they were not frequent occurrences.  

The ceremony had been lovely.  John’s father had managed to stay sober enough to walk Harry down the aisle.  By the end of the reception, he had passed out, drunk, somewhere in the front foyer of the hotel they were celebrating at.  John couldn’t have cared less.    

The christening was also rather nice. Toby was looking well and his Alpha had made true to his promise to let him keep working once the baby was weaned.  John tried not to let the fact that a family life seemed to suit Toby exceptionally well, bother him.  And he almost succeeded.

After the week of being back in England, though, John was restless.  He was itching to do something that was not sitting around, watching crap telly or having polite conversations.  He needed to get back to his work.  

He had nothing here anymore.  His father had written him off completely, his sister hardly spoke to him, and was on her honeymoon anyway and Toby had a family.  It was these reasons that John had no one to see him off at the airport.  It was a situation he had come to be familiar with and to be honest, it no longer bothered him.  

He had a place where he was wanted, where he was respected, and he couldn’t wait to get back there.

~o~

John cursed as the crumbling wall he was taking cover behind rattled as another IED went off.  

_ Jesus fucking Christ _ .  This was supposed to have been a simple routine patrol. 

Deciding that he had a proclivity for dangerous situations John had fought to be taught in combat training.  It took longer than usual and he got there but that also meant that he was no longer a protected medical personnel.  He was a fighting soldier, who was able to provide immediate if limited care to soldiers out in the field.

It was why he and a fellow soldier were now huddled behind a half-demolished building just out of Musa Qala, bombs going off and bullets whizzing by, instead of in a makeshift building back at Camp.  

The fellow soldier was writhing in agony as he bled from three different places.  The wounds on his arm and along his hip weren’t bothering John too much.  It was the great big piece of metal embedded in the man’s right thigh that was worrying John.  While it was in, he couldn’t move.  If he took it out, he would surely bleed out. 

John was finally about to make the decision, of removing the debris and praying to god he could stem the bleeding long enough to get the man to safety when there was a loud banging sound behind him. He felt himself jolt forward and for a moment thought it was just a case of him being startled.  Then he hit the ground, next to the injured soldier and that was when the pain flared through his shoulder. He tried pushing himself up, tried reaching for his gun, but had the pain, now searing down his back and up his neck, not stopped him, then the heavy booted foot, kicking at his uninjured arm would have.  

John looked up to see a person, their face covered by masks, raise his gun and shoot the man next to him, not once, but three times.  He then looked to John, and raising his gun, muttered something John couldn’t hear over the noise carrying from the other side of the wall.  

Deciding that he hadn’t come this far to let some masked man take everything away, John ignored the pain as he half rolled, pulling his good arm out from under him, aiming the pistol that was clutched in his fingers in the general direction of the man who was aiming a gun at him and pulled the trigger, hoping he hit his target.

In pain and filled with a sudden exhaustion, as soon as his finger pulled on the trigger, John collapsed back down, his face mashed into the dirt beneath him, not knowing if he had shot the other man or not.  He was vaguely aware of more loud banging, yelling and something that resembled his own name, but he couldn’t be sure, all he could do was think “ _ Please, god, don’t let me die _ .” And then his eyes slid shut. 

~o~

John scrunched up the pamphlet and threw it in the bin.  It was the fourth one that week.  The fourth reminder that he was now only good for homemaking and breeding. Except, he wasn't even any good for that.

Three weeks he had been back in London for.  His days in the army were well and truly over.  After two months in hospital, enduring three surgeries and two bouts of infection, plus weeks of physio and psychotherapy, it was clear that he was no longer fit to be a surgeon or a soldier.  

So, after twenty years of fighting to become more than his secondary gender - of working hard and proving himself to be, not only a damn good doctor but also a very skilled surgeon. To be a respected captain in her majesty’s army rather than just a soldier or just a doctor.  All of that hard work so he could now be placed in basic Omega housing with a meagre pension, no access to suppressants, an intermittent tremor, a limp that should by all rights not exist and daily pamphlets advertising websites and dating facilities for lonely Omegas.

It was enough to drive a man to insanity.  Or worse.

John knew what was now expected of him.  It was what had always been expected of him.  Find a nice Alpha, settle down, raise a family and be a good, obedient Omega.  There were two problems with that though.  

The first one being that John had never wanted to play by those rules.  It was why he had fought to become not only a doctor but a surgeon.  It was why he had pushed to not only join the army but to work on the front line.  

The second reason was that no Alpha wanted him.  Not for the long haul, anyway.  

It was why he kept the gun he shouldn’t have, cleaned and loaded in the drawer next to his bed.  John looked at the drawer from across the room.  Would today be that day?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the chime on his phone going off.  It was 10:30.  Time he left for his appointment.  Lucky him, was given, not only a cane when he left the hospital, but also a list of scheduled appointments with a psychiatrist whose sole purpose, he was certain, was to make John feel more inadequate about himself than he already did. 

The last thing John actually wanted to do was talk about all of his failures, especially to a complete stranger.

With as little enthusiasm as possible, John stood up and put his jacket on.  He slid his keys and wallet into his pockets, grabbed his cane and then picked up his phone, and headed for the door.

His sister had given him the phone.  It had had a whole two numbers programmed into it.  Hers and their fathers.  It now only had one, and even then, it never got used.  

Despite being newly un-bonded, Harry had had the decency to meet him at the airport, when he returned to London, to help him settle back into the bedsit the army had provided him with.  She hadn’t had the decency to be sober, so after forty-five minutes in each others company, they were arguing and she had stormed out.  They hadn’t spoken since.

That right there was another topic his therapist liked to drag up.  

John made his way to the lift, giving a friendly nod to the elderly gentleman who exited once the doors slid open and then stepped in himself.  The doors slid shut and John listened as the gears and cogs chugged and clanged as it slowly descended three floors down.  He couldn’t complain.  They could have housed him somewhere that only had stairs.

Outside he looked up as dark clouds slowly smothered the blue sky.  It was going to rain and he still hadn’t gotten around to buying an umbrella.  Tucking his head down and collar up, he made the few steps to the kerb and hailed for a taxi.  Three drove past without even slowing down.  

John was just contemplating walking, when the first raindrop fell, hitting his ear.  He sighed and tried hailing another cab.  

Today was going to be a long day.

~o~

Therapy was shit.  It was doing nothing for him.  He was not going to go anymore.  He was going to ring the clinic up, as soon as he got home, and cancel all of his future appointments.  

_ Write a blog. _

That was her advice.  Her grand scheme for getting out of this god-awful slump he was in.  That was her advice to fix all of his problems.

_ Write a fucking blog. _

God - where did the army find these people?  At least she hadn’t suggested he join a dating agency, like the ones before he had come home had suggested.  Ella seemed to know better than to tell John - as stubborn and head-strong as they come - to find a mate to protect him.  

John let out a sigh.  Maybe she wasn’t so bad.  Maybe he would go back to see her next week.  At least it would get him out of his little room, even if it served no other purpose.

As the rain seemed to have let up, John opted to save himself a cab fare and decided to cut through the park to get to the bus stop he needed to get home again.  

He was halfway through the park, happily ignoring the other people and happy to have them ignore him when he heard his name being called. 

~o~

John looked to Mike.  Mike Stamford, who always seemed the sensible type.  Mike Stamford who was always accommodating and helpful.  Mike Stamford who had just suggested that broken, Omega John move in with a fantastically smelling, extremely arrogant and rather mad Alpha.  

“Yeah,” Mike said with a smile.  “He’s always like that.”

John looked to the doors that the Alpha, Sherlock Holmes of 2-2-1-B Baker Street, had just left through.  There was no way in the world that any sane individual could survive living with that man.

“You’d have to be barking mad,” John said to no one in particular.

Behind him, Mike chuckled.  “Why’d you think I thought you’d be a good fit?”

John looked to his friend, about to object, but stopped himself.  He looked back to the doors.  

Sanity was overrated, anyway.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johns heats finally hit again, after his army suppressants were stopped. He's not looking forward to having to go through these alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I am a right and utter shit. I made you wait almost 4 months for this chapter and after all of your support and comments and what not. I am a horrible, horrible person. But I have tried to make up for it by over 8000 words of new chapter, just for you, to say I am so sorry.
> 
> To be fair, this chapter was written and then re-written so many times. I have walked away from it and come back so many times because it was really frustrating to write. I wanted it to be right, because you have all been such wonderful readers and you only deserved a really good chapter. In saying that, I hope I can deliver. Especially since you all waited oh, so patiently for me.
> 
> As mentioned before, I have never written an A/O fic before so if anything is glaringly incorrect please let me know and I shall endeavour to fix my wrongs.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> NTW
> 
> Second Note:  
> I have added non-con to the tags because some people have found that Sherlocks possessive behaviour was unsettling. For all of those who have read the fic, and found this to be the case (assuming you returned to read the rest) I apologise if this caused any upset. It was not my intention to do so and I clearly didn't think too hard about the tags. Please, if there are any other tags you feel should be added, please let me know and I shall do so as soon as possible.  
> NTW

~~~~~~~~~~

It was one of those rare days that John wished his life was a bit more normal.  A bit less chaotic. A lot less frustrating. 

It had come about after he had, not only slept in after a three day long case had kept him up until the early hours of the morning, but then he had also found that his left work shoe had been half filled by, what he was pretty sure, was plaster of paris. 

John wanted to yell at Sherlock, he really did - because who else would have filled his shoe with a rock hard substance - but there was no point.  Firstly, Sherlock would have some barely-there-justification for ruining another piece of Johns property (‘ _ It was an experiment, John.’  ‘It’s for the case, John.’ _ ) so would feel no remorse whatsoever about the ruination of said property and secondly, unlike John, who had managed a few hours of sleep over the past three days, Sherlock had had none, so as soon as they had arrived home that morning, Sherlock had flopped onto his bed and instantly fallen asleep.  There he would stay for at least another twelve hours and nothing short of a bomb going off in the living room of the flat would wake the man up.

There was nothing for it.  John just had to put on his sneakers and be thankful that, despite not looking professional at all, they were at least comfortable.  He didn’t have time to worry too much more about it. As it was, he was barely going to make it to work on time.

~o~

John trudged back up the stairs, bag of Thai food in one hand, todays mail in the other.  Without going through it he knew there were at least three overdue bills in there. They would have to wait until tomorrow.  Tonight John’s plans were to eat, watch TV, shower and go to bed, all in what would probably be rather quick succession.

As he pushed open the door, it was clear that Sherlock was still in bed.  Nothing had been touched and there was an almost silence in the flat that indicated John was alone.  Well, as alone as one could be with a snoring Alpha just up the hallway.

John smiled as he dropped that mail onto the kitchen table.  He had mentioned Sherlock’s snoring once. Just once and that was all it had taken for five seconds of aggressive denial, a three minute long diatribe on why Sherlock most certainly did not snore, followed by an attack on several of John’s own downfalls and then several hours of sulky silence.  John didn’t know what the fuss was. It wasn’t like it was a horrendous rumble that could be heard by the married ones next door. It was more like a loud purr, something John imagined a happy jungle cat would emit if it let you close enough to rub its belly, but all the same, John had learnt that that particular subject was not worth bringing up again, regardless how amusing Sherlock’s hissy fit had been.

When John first met Sherlock he had reservations about moving in with an Alpha but despite those reservations, John’s life had been pretty damn good since then.  

He had almost not come to view the flat.  With the aforementioned reservations and with his bout of depression and self pity, John had almost convinced himself that there was no way an Alpha such as Sherlock would see him as an asset and would eventually kick him out of his life, just like pretty much every other Alpha had done.  But Mike Stamford, (one Alpha who had been happy to stick around), had sent him a text message at 6pm the following evening wishing him luck with Sherlock and offering to pay for the next pint if he got all the interesting details on what living with Sherlock was like. Johns interest had been spiked again, just enough to put on his shoes and go to 221B Baker Street.

By the time he had put a bullet in Jeff Hope’s chest, the depression had lifted significantly and most of the reservations had fled.

After a meal of Chinese with Sherlock talking about past cases, asking about John’s time as a trauma surgeon and lamenting about Andersons lack of basic knowledge on, well, everything, all of Johns reservations about moving in had fled. 

Not once had Sherlock postured, sniffed, or made John out to be anything other than what he was.  He didn’t seem to hold one secondary gender any higher than the other and he most certainly didn’t leer at John and inform him that he had never had a real knot until he had had Sherlocks.

In fact, it was as if secondary genders were not even a thing.  Sherlock saw people as what they were capable of and useful for.  That was it. And not once did he even hint at Johns lack of scent.

It was a breath of fresh air.  One John didn’t know he needed.  And since then, he had never looked back.  (Well, there was that once when he had come home to find pig intestines hanging from the shower curtain, drying out.)

Slipping his shoes off as he walked (a skill that had taken many face plants to perfect) John kicked them into a corner and sunk down onto the couch with a very satisfied sigh.  The day had been hectic. There had been stomach bugs, flu, an Omega going unexpectedly into labour, several kids suffering from the after effects of the latest party drug going around, four cases of hemorrhoids and the standard amount of pensioners with high blood pressure, arthritis, minor skin tears plus the usual amount of ailments that came with getting old.  It had been non-stop and his stomach made sure John knew how upset it was at not being fed at lunch time by letting out a rather loud and violent rumble as soon as the the scent wafted out of the take-away containers and hit his nostrils.

“Oh good, you got the som tum” came the sleepy voice of Sherlock from the other side of the room.  John had been so focused on unpacking the food that he hadn’t heard that not only had the Alpha stopped snoring (sorry,  _ not  _ snoring) but had also padded out to the living room.  

John didn’t look up.  He just let out an affirmative hum and opened up the kai yang.

Sherlock shuffled past John, who caught a hint of light grey out of his peripheral vision.  John slowed what he was doing. Grey was new. Sherlocks lower half was usually shrouded in royal blue, or camel or burgandy if he chose to wear his first or third best dressing gown.  Grey was usually reserved for the top half of him.

John stopped what he was doing and looked up as Sherlock ungracefully plonked himself down on the couch next to John and John almost dropped the container he was holding.

Sherlock was wrapped in a sheet and, by the looks of it, only a sheet.  All the moisture in John’s mouth seemed to evaporate instantly.

It was true that John had decided, long ago, that he didn’t want an Alpha, that he didn’t want to bond  _ but, _ (and this was a very big but), just a few days after moving in with Sherlock John had decided that if he were to ever want to bond with an Alpha it would be Sherlock.  

The man was frustrating, rude, annoying, inconsiderate and fucking lazy.  He was also brilliant, smart, funny, amazingly hot and smelled devine. He had given John a purpose again.  He treated John as an equal. He made John feel alive and that was something that John never thought he would have again.  

Too many wayward thoughts and fevered dreams had been devoted to Sherlock.  Particularly Sherlock naked and devouring John whole and John knew he should feel guilty about thinking such things about his best friend but he didn’t.  He had decided that, so long as they were kept to the safe confines of his own mind, then it was perfectly fine. 

And John had made sure he didn’t project his feelings for Sherlock into real life.  Sherlock had made it clear, from that first night, that he didn’t want an Omega and even if he did, John was fairly certain that he wouldn’t want a washed up, broken Omega such as himself.  If anything, Sherlock would want to study and experiment on John, but that would be as far as his interest in Johns secondary gender would ever go and John was okay with that. It was all fine.

Except for when Sherlock came swanning out of his room, looking rumpled and adorable, in nothing but a bed sheet, elegantly draped over his body, hiding enough to be modest but showing enough to be titillating. 

John looked back down at the meal spread out before him and made himself concentrate on dividing the food up into the containers and reached into the paper bag to retrieve the plastic cutlery he knew was in there.  

By the time he was ready to face Sherlock again, he had brought his libido under control and he felt he could speak to the man without stammering or drawling.

“Sleep well?” John asked, pushing a container of mixed food over to Sherlock and then grabbing his own and settling comfortably.

“Very” Sherlock said, picking up his own food and copying Johns pose on the couch.

“Good” John replied and using his free hand he picked up the remote and turned the telly on.

The rest of the evening was spend eating Thai food and watching Countdown.  It was perfect and John was once again glad that he had come to view 221 B Baker Street.

~o~

John was sitting on the couch, flicking through the channels on the TV, not really paying any attention to what was flashing before his eyes.  He was too busy trying to figure out if he should take the next week as a bit of a reprieve or to feel utterly miserable that he had been left behind.

Sherlock had been asked to look into a 17 year old disappearance in Kongsberg.  The case had sounded intriguing enough to entice the detective away from England and originally, John was going to go with him.  Once he got his passport renewed. 

Sherlock had been happy to wait the three weeks it was going to take for the application to go through but then Mummy Holmes had made a phone call, the very night they had decided to take the case, announcing that she and Mr Holmes would be visiting for a week and would be arriving the following day.

Without missing a beat, Sherlock had feigned disappointment at having just assured a client, in Norway, that he would take their case immediately. Apparently waiting for the three weeks was no longer an option and due to the fact that the case was only a five (almost a six, John, but not quite) Sherlock didn’t think it was worth owing a favour to Mycroft for, (especially since it might mean that his parents would be part of that favour) and getting John’s passport rushed.

Not happy at the fact he was going alone, but not willing to wait, Sherlock packed his bag and left the next morning stating that he was sure the case would outlast his parents visit.

So there was John, trying to decide if he could use this week or so to just relax and read a book or watch a movie without Sherlock ruining the end, or maybe have some mates over for a pint and a game on the telly, finish up some of his blog stories or maybe even try and go on a date.  Again. This time without Sherlock making the recipient of the only person John had tried dating, storm out of the flat in tears, before they could even go to the restaurant. 

He might even get a chance to scrub out the fridge.

John finally stopped flicking through the channels when he saw  Daniela Bianchi seducing Sean Connery.  Apparently  _ From Russia With Love _ was airing tonight.  It wasn’t the best Bond movie, but at least he could watch it without Sherlock yelling at in the inaccuracies in the movie.

They were just about to cut away from the inevitable sex scene when John felt a very familiar yet distant feeling curl in his abdomen.

It had been seven months since the army had stopped his suppressants.   John wasn’t naive or optimistic enough to believe that prolonged exposure to the suppressants had stopped his heats completely, but he had hoped that they would be a lot more spread out than what they used to be.  At least he had had an extra two months. He should be thankful for that, he supposed.

Clicking the TV off, he got up and headed for his laptop.  Tescos would be shut now and if his heats, pre-army, were anything to go by then in the morning he would be in no state to want to leave the flat to go grocery shopping.  

Within half an hour John had managed to navigate the online ordering function on their website and had enough bottled water and protein bars ordered to last a heat of several days.  After all, he couldn’t be sure that they would still only be three days long. 

Closing his laptop, John stood up and then, hoping Mrs Hudson was still awake, made his way downstairs and knocked on their landladies door.

It took a few seconds but before long there was the quiet shuffled sound of Mrs Hudson’s slippered feet heading towards the door.

“John, dear” the woman answered, with a pleasant smile and John was relieved to see that there was no signs that she had settled into bed before he imposed on her.  “Is everything okay?”

John gave a reassuring smile before he spoke.  “Everything is fine, Mrs Hudson” he said. “I was just hoping you could do a small favour for me tomorrow.”

“Anything you need, dear.  Unless it involves the clean up of any of Sherlocks experiments.  I’m too old to be dealing with thumbs and knee caps.”

John tried to keep the wince off of his face at the memory of that particular experiment, but wasn’t overly successful.  Mrs Hudson gave a comforting, yet understanding pat on his upper arm.

“Nothing like that, I promise” John said and cursed at his lack of scent once more.  If he had a scent, Mrs Hudson, an Omega herself, would have smelt what his predicament was, but alas, life was never so simple so now he had to try and explain to his seventy year old landlady that he was going to be locked away for the next few days, desperate for something to be repeatedly shoved up his backside and too incoherent to even be able to answer the door and accept a parcel.

“I am having some groceries delivered tomorrow morning and if I don’t answer the door, I was wondering if you could accept them for me and maybe bring them up to the kitchen.  It’s just that I’ll be, sort of….indisposed.”

Never let it be said that Martha Hudson was slow of mind.  As soon as the words were out of his mouth a look of understanding came over the womans face and she just nodded and once again, laid a comforting hand on John’s arm.  

“Of course dear, and I will be sure to make sure no one disturbs you at all.  Have you let the clinic know?”

John shook his head.  “I’m going to ring Sarah in a minute.  And thanks for this. It’s really appreciated.  I’ll try and keep to my room.”

“Nonsense dear.  You pay half the rent on that flat, you use half the dwelling.  Don’t you worry about anyone else. Now, go ring Sarah and then get yourself off to bed.  You are going to need to be well rested.”

Despite the blush that was threatening to engulf John’s face, he gave a thankful smile and wished Mrs Hudson goodnight before going back up to the flat.  

The phone call to his boss was quick.  Sarah was completely understanding, being an Omega herself, and didn’t question John’s request for a full week off, knowing that the first heat after coming off of suppressants could be not only unpredictable but rather brutal as well.

John then spent the next hour going through a box of belongings he hadn’t touched since before he joined the army.  Inside were the sheets for his bed, old, but soft towels and an array of toys that would help him get through the next few days.  He cleaned them off, made sure everything was in working order and then followed Mrs Hudson’s advice and took himself off to bed, already feeling his body temperature start to rise.  He didn’t even give it until dawn before the cramps kicked in.

~o~

John had been too generous with his estimation.  It was barely one o’clock when he woke up with the first wave of cramps.  They were small, and not too bad, but he knew that that was just a small taste of what was to come.  Before his actual heat hit, his body would be wracked with almost debilitating cramps. 

Already exhausted, just at the thought of it all, he made his way downstairs and threw the wheat bag, he kept in the first aid cupboard, in the microwave.  While he waited for the bag to heat up, he grabbed several bottles of water out of the fridge to save him from another trip downstairs anytime soon.

Stocked up on water and aids to ease the pain, John made his way back up stairs, stopping in on the small loo that had thankfully been installed on the top floor in what he assumed used to be a storage closet. It was just big enough to house a toilet and a small hand basin but that was all he was going to need in the next few days because damned if he was going to go downstairs during the next few days, just to use the toilet.  Even if by some miracle he did manage the stairs down, he knew damn well that he would never make it back up again afterwards. He grabbed a bottle of painkillers out of the small medicine cabinet on the wall and then went back to his room where he laid out on his bed, downing two pills and resting the hot pack over his abdomen. 

It was going to be a long night.

~o~

It was unclear if his memory had faded over time or if this heat was the worst one he had ever experienced, but John was not having a good time. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been whimpering and writhing on the sheets but the toy that was currently thrust between his slick cheeks was doing nothing to relieve the frustration that was only getting worse. Maybe taking one of Sherlock’s shirts hadn’t been a good idea.

While John had still been in the cramping stage, before his true heat had hit, he had managed to go downstairs and retrieve the groceries Mrs Hudson had left on the kitchen table for him, thankfully still in their bags.  He had also made use of the only shower in the flat, hoping it would cool him down as his temperature had skyrocketed to what would be considered alarming, were he not in a heat. As he had been about to leave the bathroom, after his shower, he had spied one of Sherlock’s sleep shirts sitting on top of the laundry hamper.  In a moment of hope and desperation (and a glimmer of fanciful delusion), John had swiped the top, claiming that the scent of an Alpha (especially this particular Alpha) would help ease the cramping currently running riot through his body and would also help satisfy the insatiable lust that would soon be replacing those cramps.

At first, it had helped.  The cramps had subsided, mildly, but anything was better than nothing, and when the first flushes of sexual desire had flooded his system, burying his face into the t-shirt and deeply inhaling had helped and the resulting orgasms had been satisfactory indeed. 

Now though, now it was doing nothing but reminding him that there was an Alpha he had access to, but they were not there to help him where he needed it the most.  It was just a reminder that he was alone and that the knot currently filling his arse was silicone and not at all real. It was a piss-poor substitute.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of thrusting a toy into his body with one hand and pulling on his cock with the other, he finally came, Sherlocks name on his lips.  The cry of relief on his lips soon turned to whimpers of pity and for the first time in his life John Watson wished that he had a scent and that it had been enough to entice a certain Alpha to want to bond with him.  

John had never felt so alone.

~o~

When John woke up, he had no idea what day it was but judging by the amount of light coming through the window, it was somewhere close to midday.  

With slow, careful movements, John sat up and got out of bed.  God he ached. He had forgotten how physically strenuating a heat was.  Hell, even the one time, since he returned home from the army, that he had had sex left him with aches.  He should have expected this, but the twinges and pulls in his muscles made him wince with every step he took to get to his dresser, where his phone was sitting, powered off but attached to the charger cord.  

It took a few fumbles to get his fingers to work, but eventually he got the phone turned on, only to see that his heat had lasted three and a half days and it was indeed, just past lunch time.

Apart from the time the screen also indicated that he had seven missed calls and 42 text messages.

A quick swipe across the screen showed that six of the calls were from Sherlock and one was from Greg.  A small feeling of guilt started to stir in his stomach, at not letting his friends know why they wouldn’t be able to contact him, but he brushed it aside.  His heats were nobody’s business but his, unless they were going to help him do something about them and he doubted that very much.

The first 29 messages were Sherlock communicating with John, much the way he might verbally were they actually together.  Complaints and random musings about the case which made absolutely no sense without context (and possibly still wouldn’t make sense even with it).  It had taken Sherlock that long (over 24 hours) to realise that John wasn’t answering. The following eight messages were enquiries as to why John was ignoring him and then there were 2 where he showed as much concern as Sherlock was willing to.  He threatened to involve his brother if John did not answer. (John felt a small ball of warmth over Sherlocks round about way of showing concern.)

The final three messages were from Greg.  The first one was asking if everything was fine, because Sherlock was now messaging him.  The second was telling him that if he didn’t bloody answer his phone then Greg was coming over.  The third one was apologising for bothering him and that Mrs Hudson had explained things. He would tell Sherlock to stop calling.

John knew he shouldn’t feel even the slightest bit embarrassed that people knew he was going through a heat, he was an Omega, it was what they did, but a small part of him still hated it.  Still hated that others knew that for a few days he was pathetic, useless and defenceless, especially at his age and without an Alpha to help defend him at his most vulnerable times. The seven years of not having heats didn’t help.  He was now experiencing all of the shame and frustration that he had felt when he first presented as an Omega.

Mentally scolding himself for acting like a whiny teenager, John put the phone down and grabbed his robe.  He would answer people texts and lay their fears to rest later. Right now, he needed a shower and then a strong cup of tea.

~o~

John had just come out of the bathroom and was instantly glad that he had thought to dress before heading out, as when he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes confirmed what his nose told him before he even entered the room.  Mycroft Holmes was standing there, frowning down at something on his phone. Someone had probably just sent him a picture of something cute and fluffy.

“Mycroft” he greeted, not waiting for the man to acknowledge him, and made a  beeline straight for the kettle.

“Ah, Doctor Watson” the Alpha said with his usual false cheer, looking up from his phone, towards John.  “I see you are, in fact, still well and alive.”

John frowned.  “A bit worse for wear, but I’ll survive, yeah.”  If Mycroft had been aware of what John had just gone through, he made no mention, and despite Johns lack of scent (which he knew Mycroft knew because it was clear, after their first meeting, that Mycroft had read every file that had ever been written on John) he was under no illusion that Mycroft didn’t know what John had been through.  Not that he would ever say so, but Mycroft was more observant than Sherlock and Sherlock would have only taken half a glance to know what John had been up to for the past three days. John almost blushed at the thought. 

“Should I be flattered or frightened that you personally came down to check on me?”

Mycroft gave that tight, sarcastic little chuckle of his and his eyes actually held some merriment.  It didn’t last long. “Neither, I assure you” he replied. “My brother has been pestering me as it seems Gregory Lestrade has told him that you are fine and to stop harassing you, but has refused to tell him why you would not answer his text messages.  It is purely for my own sanity that I am here.”

“Right, well, thanks, I think” John said pulling down two mugs from the cupboard.  “Tea?” he asked.

“If it would be no trouble.”

John just gave a shrug and went to making the two cups of tea, listening as Mycroft moved closer to the table to take a seat.  

If John hadn’t just come out of his heat that afternoon, if he hadn’t been so exhausted and dazed and in desperate need for a cup of tea, he would have noticed Mycroft’s confused frown as he moved closer to John.  He would have taken more notice of the fact that Mycroft had actually walked practically right up to him and then leant in, ever so close and sniffed the air around John. He also would have noticed Mycroft pulling back suddenly and taking an instant step back, away from John. 

“I do apologise, Doctor Watson, but I will have to pass on the tea” Mycroft announced unexpectedly, momentarily pulling Johns attention away from his tea making.  “I must be going before I do something to give my brother an excuse to inflict extensive harm to my body, quite possibly resulting in my immediate expiration. Do have a good day” and then he was gone, hurrying out of the flat, without further explanation and faster than John had ever seen the man move.

John stared, bewilderedly at the door for a few seconds, trying to hash out what the hell had just happened, but nothing would come to mind.  Putting it down to a Holmes eccentricity, John turned back around and continued making the first cup of tea he had had in three days. 

~o~

Five months had passed since Johns last heat and it appeared that they were falling back into their regular cycle of pre-army days, by coming on every five months again, if the sluggish feeling in his stomach were to be interpreted correctly.  

Knowing he wouldn’t have too long before things got to uncomfortably distracting, John finished off with his patient and then quickly ducked into Sarah’s office before she called in her next patient.

“You look like hell, John” she stated before he could even open his mouth.  

“Yeah, look, I’m really sorry about this, but I’m going to need to go home” he said, feeling guilty.  This was his first day back after a four day absence due to a case with Sherlock. Thankfully, Sarah was very understanding of the time he dedicated to cases with Sherlock.  She knew that the GP work came second for John, but she was just thankful to have another Omega Doctor, other than herself, on her staff listing, even if that Omega was away more than he was there.

“Yeah, sure.  Go home, get plenty of rest, okay.”

John felt even guiltier.  “Umm, I might need four or five days” he said, trying not to bite his bottom lip.  One of these days she was going to tell him not to bother coming back into work.

Thankfully, Sarah was very, _ very _ understanding.  “I see” she said, a knowing and sympathetic look in her eyes.  John hated it. “It’ll take a bit for them to regulate themselves after...” she knew he had been on suppressants for seven years but it was still an uncomfortable topic for most Omegas to discuss.  John didn’t answer.

“Right, well, take yourself home and I will see you after five days.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

Sarah waved him off and John quickly made his way out before she started asking him questions as to why she couldn’t smell it on him - an unbonded Omega. He hadn’t disclosed that particular piece of information when he applied for the job.  He had just let her assume that he wore scent blockers. People usually did have questions when they realised what was lacking and he really wasn’t up to answering them.

Quickly, John made his way to tesco, catching a cab, not having the patience for the tube today, and grabbed supplies to see him through the next few days.  

On the taxi ride home he contemplated on whether to book himself into a hotel, to save Sherlock the issue of having to put up with him making noises and being miserable, but then figured that if the Alpha had a problem with John being in heat then he could vacate the building himself.  John wanted the comfort and familiarity of his room if he was having to go through this again. And it wasn’t like John hadn’t put up with odd sounds at all hours of the night and sulky moods from the Alpha. It might do Sherlock good to have to deal with it from the other side of things for once.

Speaking of Sherlock, the man hadn’t mentioned Johns previous heat once.  He had arrived home the day after John had come out of his heat and, even if Mycroft had not told his brother why John had been ignoring him, there was still evidence around the flat of what John had gone through.  Even small things, like two boxes of protein bars, specially formulated to help Omegas and Alphas get through heats with enough energy, yet minimal effort. Then there was the fact that Johns sheets and towels, that he used during his heat, were folded and stacked neatly on the kitchen table when Sherlock came home, still waiting to be put back in the box John kept all of the things he used during his heat in.  Granted they had been washed, but every primary school kid knew what the rubber backed sheets were for. 

Despite these, and more, small signs that John had had a heat in Sherlocks absence, the Alpha had not said a word.  John had been grateful. If there was one person he did not want to discuss it with, it was Sherlock. Knowing that the man would have questions without wanting to act on them was just too much for John.  To have Sherlock pierce him with that intense gaze, while John spoke about… well, there was only so much John was willing to push aside.

The cab pulled up to the kerb, in front of 221B Baker Street and, hastily, John paid the cabbie and got out of the car.  He knew he still had a few hours left before things started to get bad, but he wanted to make sure he had everything prepared.  He wasn’t going to have the flat to himself this time and if he didn’t have to make his way down stairs after the cramping started, the ordeal would be just that much better.

John made his way up to the flat and practically groaned when he saw that Sherlock was not alone.  He was in a silent glaring contest with his brother, who was seated in the chair that John usually sat in.  Neither of them paid John any attention, and that was fine with him. Less questions or petty comments meant that John could get things prepared and then up to his room faster.

John dumped his shopping on the kitchen table and then took himself to the bathroom to grab a few supplies to help him out over the next few days.  He came out of the bathroom and added the aspirin and wet wipes to his bag of protein bars and then rummaged around in the cupboard for his wheat pack, placing it on top of the slab of bottled water.  It would be handy to know exactly where that was before he actually needed it.

When he was sure he had everything he needed the two brothers were still glaring silently at each other.  Normally John would find a way to irritate them, see who cracked first, but he was already starting to feel warm, tired and queasy.  If he could get away from the Holmes brothers, the transition into his heat would be a lot less….unsettling. As it were, even from the kitchen, their combined scent was sending mixed messages to Johns brain and he felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him.  

John went to pick up his bags, wanting to get away from them as soon as possible and then decided that he would need to leave Sherlock a note otherwise the Alpha was likely to storm up to his room and demand to know where something trivial was and John didn’t want to deal with a stroppy Alpha while he was trying to not burst with sexual frustration.

His first thought was to send a text message to Sherlock, but if there was no case on, Sherlock could ignore his phone for hours, even days, especially if Mycroft was harassing him.  He needed another form of communication. He could just speak to Sherlock, tell him now why he would be unavailable for the next few days but the chances of Sherlock actually listening to him was rather very slim.

Looking around, John spotted a pad of bright orange post-it notes on the desk in the living room.  Surely that should be bright enough to catch the attention of the only consulting detective, especially if he left more than one in different areas of the flat.   John quickly strode across the room and grabbed the pad, breathing through his mouth, trying to dilute the scent of both the Alphas who were really too close by for his comfort.  He was just reaching for a pen when he froze, a deep growl sounding behind him.

John had heard sounds very similar to that over the years.  Deep, possessive, dangerous. But none of those sounds had ever been directed at him, and he sure as hell hoped that whoever had made the sound, wasn’t directing at the person sitting opposite them.  

Deciding that it was just best if he didn’t read too much into it and ignored it, John reached for the pen again, only to stop when another growl sounded out in the silent room.

“Get out” he heard Sherlock rumble, his voice much lower than it usually was and not even as close to as smooth.

John turned around to tell Sherlock to fuck off, it was his living room and if he wanted to be in it, then he would, but when he turned around, Sherlock wasn’t looking at him at all.  He was looking at Mycroft, who had stood up from the chair and was looking at John with wide eyes and a feral snare on his lips.

Mycroft didn’t leave.  In fact, he did the opposite and took a step in Johns direction.  John didn’t even register that Sherlock had left his chair until the man had his hand wrapped around his brothers neck and was snarling at him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Sherlock” John yelled, rushing forward to pry his hand off of Mycroft’s neck.  This was not what he wanted to be doing right now. Being this close to not one, but two Alphas was just pure torture but if Sherlock killed Mycroft then there would be no one to get Sherlock off of the murder charge.  And that meant that John would have to deal with the police. Whatever these two had been arguing about before John got home, was going to have to wait for a few more days to resolve.

John finally managed to get Sherlock and Mycroft separated and positioned himself in between the two brothers, both who were breathing rather heavily.  

John turned to Mycroft and lifted his hands to assess the bruising that was already appearing on his neck.  Before his hands could touch the purpling flesh he heard another threatening growl from Sherlock and he felt himself being pulled back, further away from the older Holmes brother.

“Sherlock, what in the hell are you doing?” John snapped, pulling his arm free of Sherlocks, frankly, painful grasp.

“You are not his, John.   _ You are mine _ .”  At this unexpected, and extremely odd declaration Sherlock defensively positioned himself between John and Mycroft, effectively stopping them from seeing each other.

“Sherlock….”  John tried to step around Sherlock, to be able to re-situate himself between the two brothers, but Sherlock blocked his attempts.  “Mycroft, you might want to maybe come back later, when he has calmed down a bit” John suggested, over the shoulder of Sherlock.

Sherlock growled once more and Mycroft finally took a step back, his eyes not leaving his brothers face.  

“Sound advice, Doctor Watson” he said as he backed out of the room slowly, but he didn’t sound like he agreed with it.  In fact, if John didn’t know any better, he would say that the man sounded heart broken, but thankfully, John knew better and thinking Mycroft held any affection for him was even more preposterous than believing that Sherlock would.

Neither men moved until Mycroft’s footsteps could be heard moving down to the lower floors and out of the building.  When the sound of the ground floor door closed Sherlock spun around and - there was only one way to describe it - stalked closer to John.

“What are you...are you going into heat?  I thought I still had two more months.” Sherlock’s voice was low, raspy, almost desperate.

John stumbled back as Sherlock crowded him, trying to make sense of the other man’s words.  “ _ You _ had two months?”

“Yes, John” Sherlock said, finally catching up to John and grabbing him, hard, by the shoulders.  “I was trying to... _ god, that is so good _ .  I mean, I knew it was, after last time, but now, with you actually here…”

“Sherlock, what do you mean last time and what in the hell are you doing?”

John pushed Sherlock’s head away from where it appeared he was trying to sniff Johns neck.

“Your last heat.  I could still smell it in the flat, only just, when I returned from Kongsberg.  God, John. It is so much better now.”

“Sherlock.  You’re not making any sense, and what...where are you taking me... _ Sherlock _ !”

John tried to dig his heels in, to stop Sherlock from dragging him out of the room, but Sherlock was apparently possessed.  By the time they reached Sherlock’s bedroom, John still hadn’t managed to pull his wrist free of Sherlocks grasp, and unless he wanted to fall over - and he was under no illusion that Sherlock would have stopped to pull him back to his feet, rather just drag him along - John had had no option but to hurriedly stumble after the oddly-behaved Alpha.  And god it had been hard to resist just giving in and willing run to the bedroom himself. By the second, Sherlocks scent was getting stronger and if John didn’t know any better he would say the Alpha was going into rut, but an Omegas scent was needed for that and that was one thing that John didn’t have. Therefore, this was an experiment of some sort.  It was that thought alone that had helped John resist. It was that reason why, when Sherlock dragged John into his bedroom and pushed him against the door that had slammed shut as soon as they had entered the room, John was only mildly aroused and more than fucking furious.

“Now, Sherlock, is really not the time for one of your stupid fucking mind games.  Let. Me .Go.”

Sherlocks answer was to crash his lips over Johns and to insert a thigh between Johns legs and push up.  John almost whined at the feeling against his cock, which wasn’t hard, but was feeling rather sensitive. If John had thought this was surprising, it did nothing to prepare him for the shock of the erection that was in the room.  Sherlock rolled his hips to either emphasise the bulge that was in his pants - indicating want - or to relieve some tension the friction against Johns hip would provide. The resulting moan indicated the latter, but with Sherlock one could never be too sure.

“You’re going into heat” Sherlock purred in Johns ear, followed by the feel of his wet tongue, running over Johns defunct scent gland.  John shivered and then tried to push Sherlock away. He was unsuccessful.

“I don’t see what that has to do with you” John replied, trying to sound pissed off, but whatever Sherlocks lips were doing to his neck were eroding his resolve.  Quite quickly.

“What that means” Sherlock responded, his long fingers untucking Johns shirt from his trousers.  John’s own fingers tried to stop him, but again, with very little result. “Is that I am going to fuck you and then knot you and fill you full of my seed.  That is what it has to do with me, John.”

John clenched his eyes shut.  Words he had wanted to hear, over and over again, just five months ago, were now like a knife to his gut and finally, he was able to push Sherlock back, just far enough to stop the man from gaining access to his neck.

“I don’t know what experiment you are conducting Sherlock, but I can’t be a part of it.”

The frown the befell Sherlock’s face was dangerous.  “This isn’t an experiment, John. This is me telling you that I am going to get you through your heats.  And only me from here on in.” 

The plural didn’t get past John and he managed to push Sherlock back another couple of centimetres.  It was fanciful thinking on both their parts to believe that, even if it did sound like Sherlock were offering what John often foolishly dreamed of, he would stick around for the duration of this heat, let alone any others.  

“You don’t want to me, Sherlock.  You’ll get tired and leave after a few hours.  You’ll get bored.” John could hear the pity in his own voice and it made him feel even more pathetic.  Apparently, it wasn’t enough to deter Sherlock from whatever it was he was trying to prove.

“No” he replied simply and made to move back in.  John held fast.

“You will.  All Alphas do.”  At that point a cramp took hold of Johns body and his hold faltered, enough for Sherlock to break loose and instantly attach himself back to Johns neck.  Instantly, Johns nose was flooded with a calming scent and his cramps subsided. He hadn’t had relief like this, during a heat, since Mary. 

“All Alphas are idiots. They’d have to be, not to get lost in this smell, John” and then Sherlock inhaled deeply and a thought, hopefully small that it was, occurred to John.

“You can smell something” he stammered.

“You, John, I can smell you and it is wonderful.”  Sherlock sounded drunk, happily blissed out, but his fingers were steady as they quickly undid the buttons on Johns shirt.

John was too confused to try and stop him.  Before long, while thoughts and denials ran through John’s head, Sherlock had them both naked and standing by the bed.  Sherlocks scent was now all around him,  _ all over him _ .  The Alpha had scented him as he undressed him.  John had been too caught up in his own head to realise that that was what had been happening.  He had missed his first scenting. It was when he looked at Sherlock’s erection, long and wide, the knot already starting to inflate, that the reality finally hit John.

“Oh, god, you can really smell me.”  His voice was small and shocked and he felt the room swim around him.  It was too much to take in. After all of his life of being told that he had no scent, that he was broken, faulty, unwanted, to now find out it was all wrong.  John was thankful that Sherlock had moved them away from the door because when Johns knees gave out, there was thankfully a bed behind him for him to drop onto.

“You smell delicious, John.  How could you not notice this”  Sherlock answered, his voice dripping with want, with lust, for John.  Clearly, he was oblivious to Johns inner turmoil as he took that moment to place his hand on Johns chest and push him back on the mattress.

It was then that another thought occurred to John.  A memory of another Holmes, acting oddly, just five months ago and then again, in their living room, just a few minutes ago.  “And so could Mycroft.”

There was a threatening growl from somewhere near his sternum, but John, still in quite some shock, ignored it.  "The last time, when you were not here, he came over after my heat and then left in a hurry. He could still smell the remains…”

John never got any further for suddenly there was a flurry of moment and a growl being pushed into his mouth, along with Sherlock’s tongue.  As he pulled away, Sherlock bit on Johns bottom lip, hard, drawing blood.

“Don’t mention his name in our bed, John.  You are  _ mine _ , not  _ his _ .”  It wasn’t the words or the possessiveness or the realisation about his scent that finally pulled John out of his shocked stupor.  It wasn’t even the sting to his bottom lip. It was Sherlock’s sulky voice as he mentioned his brother. 

Before he could stop himself, John was giggling like a child and Sherlock pulled away and crossed his arms, refusing to look at John.

“Oh, come on” John said, his laughter petering out as he reached back up for Sherlock.  Sherlock let himself be pulled back down. 

“He smelled you first” Sherlock complained as he rubbed his nose against Johns scent gland one more time.  John decided he couldn’t get enough of the feeling and tilted his head to allow more access, now that he knew why Sherlock was doing it.

“But you can smell me now” John comforted and Sherlock relaxed on top of him, his lips roaming over the expanse of Johns neck and jaw.

Despite knowing that Sherlock would probably never have done this had he not caught a hint of Johns scent, despite knowing that once the heat was over, Sherlock would go back to being himself - the man who didn’t want a an Omega, John couldn’t stop him.  If he were being honest, he didn’t want to stop him. If this was the only capacity he could truly have Sherlock, if this was a one time offer, then he was going to take it, future longing and pining be damned.

Even if he wanted to stop, he had a feeling that Sherlock would have long, loud words about it.  There was no stopping the Alpha, especially since he had started rutting against Johns hip again.  All in all, John was fucked, in more ways than one and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the boys have finally gotten their act together. Sexy times are coming up next!


End file.
